The Price of Silence Book One
by Sammaras
Summary: Through no fault of her own, Stephanie is thrust into a dangerous situation that forces her to reevaluate her life. She must learn to depend on herself first and others second. This life changing experience sets in motion a roller coaster of events that will lift her high and drop her low. In the end, she gets her HEA, but with whom? You'll have to read to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**The Price of Silence**

By Sammaras

* * *

"I waited and waited.

For minutes, for hours, for days.

But all I had was silence,

And with the absence of your words

I took it as an answer."

~unknown~

**PROGLOGUE**

Silence... It was my biggest regret in life.

When horrific things happened and when great things happened, I stayed silent. I had my reasons—they made sense—or so I thought at the time. But now? Now, I know better.

I wish I could go back. If I could, I'd use my voice to scream from the roof tops instead of trying to jump off them. I would have yelled long and hard to get the attention of anyone who'd listen. I wouldn't have wasted my time worrying about gossips in the neighborhood or how I embarrassed my family. I'd have proudly proclaimed my joys and sorrows for all to hear. But that's not what I did, and because of my cowardly silence, good people were hurt.

As if that wasn't tragic enough, I had to go and fall in love with a man who built his life around silence. Ranger once told me there was no price for what we gave each other, but that wasn't true.

There is _always_ a price.

I sometimes wondered if he knew the price I paid for _his_ silence. Each unanswered question and misdirection of my curious nature about a man I longed to know inside and out was another silence to add to the mountain I already carried on my shoulders.

Eventually the consequences of all that silence crippled me and I lost everything. But through the destruction, I found my voice and how to use it. My story is one that ends in hope. Along the way, you'll learn some things about me that might shock and horrify you, but keep in mind that I lived through them and made it to my happily ever after.

**CHAPTER 1**

**My Hands Are Tied**

Piercing pain radiated through my head, zinging down my spine in never ending cycles. I was drifting in and out of consciousness, my eyelids fluttering open and closed, my thoughts fuzzy. When I was finally able to keep my eyes open, I couldn't see a thing. Wherever I was, it was pitch black.

I was lying on some type of narrow cushion, much harder than my bed. I carefully raised up on my elbows and groaned when pain exploded in my head. It hurt so bad that my skin turned clammy and I vomited all over myself. I fell back, grabbing my head with my hands and putting pressure on my skull to try and dull the pain. That's when I felt the cumbersome metal around my wrists.

What the hell!

I drew in a sharp breath—my heart pounding—as I touched each wrist and moved my ankles, discovering thick metal bracelets fastened around them and a length of chain connecting each set. I tried to sit up again—to get away but was stopped short when a metal collar tightened around my neck, choking me.

My brain was sluggish. I couldn't make sense out of what was happening. I moved my fingers over the cuffs, desperately trying to find a clasp, but what I found caused my heart to plummet into my stomach. Padlocks. No. No. No. This can't be happening. I was breathing so hard it was making my chest hurt. More desperately now, I felt along the chains, trying to find a weakness, a broken link, anything to get me out of them.

There was nothing.

I tried wedging my fingers under the collar, but there was barely enough room to fit one finger. I discovered a ring at the back of my neck with a chain leading upward, allowing me to move forward like a tethered dog. I reached up, grabbing the chain with both hands and pulled. It didn't budge. My heart raced and my breathing went haywire. I screamed and jerked in a fit of rage.

When I finally stopped, I'd done nothing but make my headache worse. I lay back on the bed to calm myself and think of what to do next. As I lay there, the pain in my head throbbed in time with my heart, giving me less than a second of pain free relief between beats. With each inhale, I breathed in a horrid smell. I twisted my head from one side to the other, thinking it was coming from the mattress. It reeked of body odor, blood, vomit, and beneath those offensive odors was something worse—something so foul I could taste it in the air.

Once my adrenaline wore off, I started shivering. My breathing turned harsh again. That's when I realized I was naked. Panic shot up my spine. Someone took my clothes off and I didn't know who or why. What else had they done to me? My mind raced, trying to remember what happened. I wiggled my hips, testing for soreness between my legs. There was no pain—no wetness. It wasn't conclusive that I hadn't been raped, but it brought relief.

Images flashed through my mind like slides on a projector. I worked to arrange them, so they made sense. The last thing I remembered was getting out of my car in the parking lot of my building and feeling a stinging sensation on the back of my neck and then… nothing. I sucked in a breath. I'd been drugged. I wanted to kick myself for letting someone get the jump on me.

I couldn't lay here any longer just waiting for whoever took me to come back and finish me off. I slid my legs off the cushion. My feet landed on freezing concrete. I could feel the narrow metal bed frame against the back of my knees. I squinted in the darkness until I saw something glowing in the distance. It was close to the floor and had coils like a heater.

In my attempt to get loose from the chains, I'd made a lot of noise. I hadn't considered whether I was alone in the room or not. Or if the noise I was making would alert the person that I was awake. I'd prefer to delay that as long as possible.

I sat quietly, holding my breath while I listened to the deafening silence.

That's when I heard it!

Breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**Never Ignore the Spidey-Sense**

My heart was pounding. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. There was an eerie calmness all around me—yet I felt a disturbance in the air. I don't know how I missed it. Someone or something was hiding in the darkness… waiting.

I heard a clicking sound right before I was blinded by light. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust and when they did, I saw a man sitting not ten feet in front of me, shrouded in shadows, a camping lantern resting on his knee. A feeling of dread like nothing I'd ever known before had me pushing my shivering body back against the concrete wall, trying to hide my nakedness.

"I see you're finally awake." His voice was soft—unthreatening as he got to his feet, turning on hanging lanterns around the room until it was bright enough to see clearly. He was tall and had dark brown hair that curled almost as much as mine and was combed straight back off his face. He appeared close to my age—attractive—maybe one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen.

After he turned on the last light, he picked up a long white box with a red ribbon tied around it from a table to my left. With the box in his hands, he came toward me. I dug my heels into the mattress, scraping my back on the rough texture of the block wall, sliding as far as the chain around my neck would allow.

He stopped when his knees hit the metal frame of the bed and smiled down at me, his clear blue eyes reflecting the light of the room as they bore into mine, studying me, just as I studied him. "I got you a present," he said as he bit his lower lip and held out his offering. "Go ahead. Open it."

I lowered my eyes, letting my curls shield most of my face. When I made no attempt to take the box, he pushed it closer—insistent. I swallowed uncomfortably and took it, not wanting to anger him. A dozen red roses were inside. I may not have received many flower arrangements in my life, but even I knew that a dozen red roses symbolized a declaration of love—and not the platonic kind. This kind of love spelled romance. I was in trouble. More trouble than I realized.

I felt his intense stare as if he was trying to draw me to him. I thought about being stubborn and refusing to look at him, but I wanted to know why I was brought here and what he wanted from me. I looked up, an unspoken question in my eyes. He motioned with his hand for me to give the box of roses back to him. As soon as I handed them over, he quickly turned away, taking the roses to the table and grabbing a metal pitcher off a shelf, filling it with water from the small sink attached to the wall. While he arranged the flowers, he stole quick glances at me and even winked. When he was done, he stood to the side and motioned to the roses. "They spruce the place up nicely, don't you think?"

I gave a noncommittal smile and let my eyes dart around the dismal room, inspecting and cataloging everything in sight. The walls were block. The floor was concrete. There were no windows. It was medium in size and had a round wooden pole in the center that was most likely supporting the ceiling. When my eyes landed on the glowing object, I realized I'd been right, it was a space heater. I followed the cord to a large black device that appeared to be a rechargeable generator. While I surveyed my prison, he leaned his hip against the table—waiting.

"Where am I?" My voice sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else.

He slowly spread his arm over the room. "This is our home." He took his time walking back to the camp chair, smiling brightly as he sat, casually placing his ankle on the opposite knee. "We're in the Pine Barrens." He spoke patiently as if we were meeting for coffee, and I was fully clothed, not shackled in his dungeon.

"Where are my clothes?"

His smile disappeared, replaced with cold indifference. "You don't need them anymore."

Of course, I needed my clothes. Being naked wasn't something I was comfortable with, even in my own home. Hell, I slept in a T-shirt at night.

"I guess you're wondering how you got here?" When I didn't answer, a trace of disappointment flickered across his face. He stood up, approaching me slowly, his head almost touching the lanterns hanging from the ceiling trusses. Power emanated from his six-foot frame. He balled his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching them before he reached down with his index finger under my chin and tilted my face upward. "When I speak to you, I expect an answer."

I swallowed, heavily. He was telling me that he was the boss and I was his subject. I needed to remember that, or he'd have to teach me, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like it if he did. I decided to play by his rules. "Yes, I'd like to know how I got here," I stammered with just the right amount of fear and respect.

"I injected you with a quick acting cocktail. That was two days ago. I thought I might have used too much." Regret registered in his voice. I decided he was relieved he hadn't killed me—yet.

Now that he was close enough for me to see his face clearly, I realized I'd seen him before. But where? Was he involved with a skip of mine? I mentally shook my head. No, I was certain he wasn't connected to my job.

"Stand up." He spoke in a gentle tone, but it was a demand and we both knew it.

My insides twisted. I didn't want to get up. Sitting down allowed me to hide most of my naked self. But what choice did I have? I swallowed hard and awkwardly got to my feet, making sure to keep my hands and arms strategically placed over my breasts and lower region. He leaned back, scanning me from head to toe. My heart beat faster with each passing second. I wanted to run, but there was no place to go.

"Drop your hands to your side," he ordered.

I didn't move.

"Now!" I jumped at his harsh tone. He was close enough to hit me if he wanted.

Dread filled me as I took a deep breath for courage and lowered my arms. I cringed internally at his scrutiny, my body flushing with the heat of anger and fear. His eyes immediately went to my breasts, jiggling as I shivered, then continued down to the dark triangle of hair neatly trimmed at the juncture of my thighs.

"I will only ask you one time." His emotionless eyes returned to my face, patiently dictating his terms. "If you continue to be rude, I will punish you." He paused to let that sink in. "Do you understand, my Princess?"

_Princess?_ I fought the urge to scream. I wasn't his princess. I wasn't his anything.

He waited—daring me to mouth off. Finally, I lowered my lashes so he wouldn't see the rage reflected in my eyes and nodded my head, careful not to put stress on the collar around my neck.

"Use your words," he scolded.

"Yes," I replied in an angry whisper.

"Yes, Hunter," he corrected.

"What?" My brows crinkled as I lifted my head in confusion.

"My name is Hunter Durant." He gave a quick laugh and then bit his bottom lip. "I guess you don't remember me, but I remember you. You took my breath away the first time I saw you." I tried not to squirm out of his grasp as he lightly touched my jaw. "I could barely get my tongue to work. You were more beautiful than all—" Abruptly, he stopped speaking, his face going slack and unreadable. I waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

"Why am I here?" I asked, trying to appear strong while standing naked in chains.

"I wanted to get to know you, but you refused when I asked you on a date. This was the only way I could get you away from the two Neanderthals that are constantly sniffing around you." He sneered.

It hit me like a blast of lightning. I remembered running into him at the grocery store a few months ago. He was charming, but I was in a relationship with Morelli and tried to brush him off without hurting his feelings. Now, I was going to have to change my tune and make it believable. "A date sounds like a great idea." I nodded. "I have a stunning red dress and matching shoes that I've been saving for a special occasion. We could go to a nice restaurant and maybe dancing afterwards." If I could convince him that holding me here wasn't necessary, maybe he'd let me go.

"That does sound fun." He smiled. "But since you're already here, we have all the time in the world to learn about each other."

My body started to shake, and I willed it to be still. I needed to keep it together. "So, this is a date?" I mustered a smile and motioned to the room around us. "You'll take me home afterward and kiss my cheek like a proper gentleman?"

He returned my smile, seemingly encouraged by the picture I painted, then pushed a curl behind my ear. "This is more than a date." His arms stretched wide, sweeping the room. "This is our destiny and I don't need to take you anywhere because you're already home."

A scream lodged in my throat. I wanted to claw his eyes out, but I couldn't, not without paying a price. Instead, I held still—my chest heaving with outrage. He traced the outline of my lips with his thumb. All the while, gazing into my eyes with such intensity I thought he was going to kiss me.

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you," he soothed. "I love you."

True fear crept up my spine. I wanted his hands off me. I tried a different approach, still hoping to appeal to a tiny piece of goodness he must possess. "If you love me, why did you kidnap me and why am I chained up? Love isn't forced, it's freely given."

He gripped my jaw a little tighter and leaned in. "The chains are only temporary. It's up to you when or **if **they come off." He spoke as if I was a disobedient child. "I know that trusting me will take some time," he continued, "but your love can't hide from me forever. Now that you're here, you'll be able to see what I can offer."

My fists clenched at my side. "And what will happen if I never love you?"

"For your sake, I hope it doesn't come to that." He reached his other hand up so that now both hands were cradling my face. His thumbs lovingly moved over my lips. My breathing increased when I noticed the desire in his eyes. Tears threatened to overflow, and I looked away. As soon as I did, I knew I'd made a mistake.

"This is why it was time. You have to learn to love me—to crave my touch." Dejected, he moved back to his chair, casually resting his left foot on his right knee this time, like he hadn't just turned my world upside down.

Now that he'd backed off, I could feel my legs shaking and my teeth chattering. I lowered myself to the bed, relieved when he didn't object. I crossed my legs and arms, leaning forward, giving my body coverage from his roaming eyes.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice the clues I've been leaving."

"Clues?" My brows furrowed as I struggled to keep up. The conversation shifted quicker than sand.

He grinned knowingly as if he had a secret and was dying to tell me. "The things in your apartment. I moved them around to let you know I was thinking of you."

My frown deepened as I remembered. It seemed that every time I needed something it hadn't been there. The missing beer—I blamed on Dillon, and my missing panties—I blamed on Bob. I started getting paranoid after I couldn't find my skip notebook. I searched everywhere and then it suddenly turned up in the exact place I'd already looked several times. Then there was my bedding. It wasn't like I made my bed every day, but there were times when my blanket was positioned in a way I hadn't left it. There were other things too, small items missing, like my favorite lipstick and a pair of earrings.

I hadn't told Joe because he already drank Maalox by the gallon and Ranger… well, I hadn't been physically threatened, so there was no need for him to bleed money to keep me safe. I did ask Hector, but he didn't know what I was talking about. After that, I ignored my Spidey-sense, and brushed it off as being forgetful.

I pasted a fake smile on my face. "Really, that was you?"

He quirked one eyebrow. "I've been watching you for a while, Babe."

_Internally, I cringed. I only allowed one man to call me Babe. _

He walked over to the table with the roses, and carefully pushed it across the room until it was in front of me. My eyes followed his every move, unsure what he was doing. He moved his chair to the other side of the table and retrieved a brown paper bag and a small travel cooler from a shelf along the wall. He placed the bag on the table and the cooler on the floor and he took his seat. He removed two PB&J sandwiches, two individual bags of cheetos, and two bottles of water. "Eat," he instructed, as he picked up his sandwich.

I wasn't sure how my stomach would accept food, but I had to eat if I was going to keep up my strength. As I reached for the bottle of water, my chain clanged against the table. I did my best to ignore my circumstances, guzzling half my water in seconds.

"You frequent that pizza place, Pino's, a lot." He stopped chewing and studied me. "I would sit nearby and watch as you ate and talked with your friends. Could you sense me?" My mouth went dry. I was unable to swallow the peanut butter and bread let alone answer him. I focused on my food, assuming that was a rhetorical question when he didn't give me time to answer. "After you finished your meal and left, people continued talking about you. Did you know that? It's how I learned all about you."

I desperately grabbed the bottle of water as I choked. I knew people gossiped, but it hurt that they fed him information about me. When I'd regained my composure, I put on a happy face as if I was thrilled to learn the lengths he'd gone to. "You wanted to know me that bad? I'm flattered."

"I knew the minute you walked down the frozen food aisle that you were destined to be mine," he said with a knowing grin. "We both reached for the door at the same time, but of course I let you go first and held the door while you made your selection." He smiled dreamily, as if we were star crossed lovers, finally reuniting after centuries apart. "You reached for a carton of Chunky Monkey, and I asked if it was any good."

_Ice cream? This was all because of ice cream? Ranger said that stuff was going to kill me._

"Do you remember what you said?" he asked, never breaking eye contact. "Your eyes lit up and you said, 'You can't have a celebration without it.'" He laughed like I'd said something profoundly witty. "You sounded so much like her."

_Sounded like who? What was he talking about? _

His eyes brightened with hope as they roamed my face for signs of recognition. My face must have revealed my confusion because he sighed, and then visibly deflated. "You don't remember?"

It was getting increasingly difficult to keep up with his delusions and to respond appropriately. Suddenly, his arm darted out, lightning fast, and I jerked away. A surge of adrenaline hit my system as I tried to decide between fight or flight.

"I'm not going to hit you," he said, acting insulted as he opened the cooler at his feet and pulled out two pints of Chunky Monkey and two plastic spoons. "Maybe this will jog your memory." He handed me a pint and kept one for himself.

My skin prickled with heat from my near miss. I decided being polite was my best strategy. There was a progression in situations like this. He seemed to be starting off on an amiable foot and I needed to come up with a strategy to do the same. If this didn't work, I could adjust my approach later, but I'd never be able to make up ground if I started off being contentious.

I had a hysterical need to laugh. Strategy? Was I insane? The man was unstable. He'd kidnapped me. He wasn't using normal thoughts and actions because HE. WAS. NOT. NORMAL.

I shoved the last of my sandwich into my mouth while trying to maintain a calm exterior. I was a pretty good liar. Sometimes they rolled right off my tongue and snowballed out of control. Like when I told my mother I couldn't attend Valerie's bridal shower because I had cello practice. This was no different, just on a life and death scale. I shook my head back and forth and rolled my eyes as if I couldn't believe my own stupidity. I struggled to swallow the thick ball of peanut butter and bread that was stuck to the rook of my mouth and when I was able to speak, I said, "Of course, I remember you. I just didn't think you remembered me."

His eyes lit up. "I thought maybe you did, but… I wasn't sure." He gave me a lopsided smile and hesitantly admitted, "I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you."

The nausea returned and I struggled to keep from making a break for the door. "You're in love with me?" I asked as I casually took the lid off the carton of ice cream. He smiled, timidly nodding his head as if he was afraid I'd reject him. We'd barely spoken to each other and he seriously believed he was in love with me? I returned his smile, pointing at him every now and then with my spoon, as I let the lies flow. "It was this new book my girlfriend recommended."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"The reason I said no." I was talking to him as if he was a simpleton and the reason was completely obvious. He still didn't understand where I was going with this, and honestly, neither did I. But the lies kept coming. "It's like a relationship self-help book to aid women in finding the man of their dreams." Unfortunately, I knew plenty about advice books. Mary Lou had one for every topic—poor Lenny.

I kept a close watch on his eyes to see if he was buying this shit and was relieved when he sat forward, interest sparked. "Go on."

"The book instructs women to say 'no' when a man asks her out the first time… even if he seems perfect." I added that little bit for effect. I'd never known a man that didn't like to be puffed up with compliments. "Men are attracted to the chase. If they give up too easily, they're just after something casual… or at least that's what the book says." I twisted my lips into a pout and blinked innocently. "When you didn't ask again… I thought… I thought you weren't interested in me." I turned away, hiding my face in shame. "I've been burned before. This time I wanted to make sure to do things right."

I felt his gaze on me—assessing. There was only one thing keeping me from walking out that door and I was looking at it. I just needed to stroke his ego enough for him to let his guard down. When it was time for me to strike, he'd never see it coming.

After he gathered our garbage and pushed the table away, he moved his chair back to the center of the room and sat down. He stared at me respectfully, never letting his eyes go lower than my face. I continued my frustrated rant in the hopes he would be drawn into the spell I was trying to cast. "I never should have listened to my friend. It's not like she's in a successful relationship. But oh, no, I must do what the book says, at the most important time in my life—Why me?"

Internally, I cringed as I turned into my mother.

He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, his mouth gaping slightly open, loving every word. I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, wondering if he'd misread the entire situation. I guess it's true, if you want to believe something, you'll find a way to make it fit in with your desires. That's human nature. I've done enough of it, I should know.

"I wish I hadn't read that stupid book, I would have said yes that day at the grocery store." I looked up at him as I sniffed and moved my hand to wipe away a nonexistent tear. The chain rattled and I grimaced in pain as it pulled against my wrist. "Are these really necessary?" I let my front teeth dig into my bottom lip in a submissive manner. "I'm not going to leave you now that I've finally found you."

His breath caught and the corners of his mouth started to curve into a smile, but then everything changed. His spine straightened and his features darkened as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "What about the detective?"

I stopped breathing. "You know Morelli?"

His eyes lowered to my bare breasts then back to my face, moving his jaw side to side as if to rid his mouth of a bad taste. "I've seen him kissing you and I've seen the bed you sleep in with him while you let him put his filthy hands on what's mine." His voice got louder as he spat each word. The ground I'd gained was breaking off quicker than I could shore it up. I needed to get his mind off Joe without refocusing his anger on me.

"He means nothing to me. He's been hurting me since I was a little girl. He thinks because he's a cop, he can do whatever he wants." He puffed up a little at the thought of protecting me from Joe.

"I can kill him for you." His tone was emotionless as he waited to see what I'd say.

Shit! I didn't want Joe dead, but I knew he could take care of himself and if this guy went after him it could lead them straight to me. As far as plans went, it wasn't great, but right now it was all I had. "I don't want you to kill him. If you get caught, they'll take you away from me and I'll never see you again. But I would love it if you'd make him leave me alone. Can you do that?" I raised my eyebrows in question. "I mean, would you help me?"

His body visibly relaxed and he nodded his head in understanding. "He does seem controlling. I should have known you wouldn't like a man like that."

"He is," I said, making my voice sound small. "He tries to bully me into marrying him, but I won't."

Just when I thought I'd managed to calm him down, his eyes narrowed. "What about the muscle-bound bounty hunter?"

"Vinnie thinks I'm not good enough to do my job, so he makes Ranger help me." I shrugged one shoulder, doing my best to show him that Ranger was a meaningless person in my life. "I just want to do a good job, you know?" I kept my head down, trying to evoke pity as I peeked up at him.

He nodded as his lips came together in a tight line before tilting his head to the side, thoughtfully. "You're really not involved with either one of them?"

"No, they could never give me what I need," I said softly.

His next revelation knocked the breath out of me. He gave me a sinister smile and in a honeyed voice, he said, "Your mother seems nice. I ran into her the other day at Giovincini's deli. She told me I was a nice young man and invited me to dinner to meet her unmarried daughter."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I sat there, staring at him while my mind raced to understand. I had no doubt he was telling the truth. It was something my mother would do. This wasn't the first time she'd set me up with a psycho. Dave Brewer flashed in my mind.

He bit his lip while smiling mischievously. "It was easy slipping in and out of your parents' AND your sister's homes."

What? My breaths were coming quicker—heavier—and I thought I was going to hyperventilate. Did he hurt them? My mind played out various scenarios where he killed my family. I gave my head a violent shake to clear the images.

"Your little nieces are pretty cute," he added.

Fury, like nothing I'd ever felt before, ignited inside me. "What did you do to them?" I screamed and launched myself off the bed—forgetting the chain linking my ankles—and fell head long at his feet. His chair flew out from under him as he jumped up and staggered backward. I looked up from the floor, the skin on my stomach and chin burning from sliding along the concrete.

"I haven't done anything to them—yet." He stood over me, smiling innocently. "Whether or not they get hurt is all up to you."

I closed my eyes and saw Angie, Mary Alice, Lisa, Bert, Valerie, Grandma, and my parents. They were all helpless against a man like Durant. In a fit of madness, I violently jerked on the chains, trying to get my hands free to choke him. I was only hurting myself, but I couldn't stop. Finally, I gave up the struggle and slowly got to my feet. "If you hurt them, I will kill you!" I snarled.

He smiled indulgently, knowing my threat was empty and stepped so close his clothes grazed my bare skin. He was breathing heavily, making fists with his hands. He stared me down for what seemed like forever and then as if I was of no consequence, he turned away without saying a word. He folded his chair against the wall, grabbed a bottle of disinfecting wipes, and a garbage bag. He tore off several wipes and threw them at my feet, motioning to the floor beside my bed.

"I cleaned the vomit from your bed while you slept, but from now on you will clean up after yourself."

He waited while I cleaned up and took the bag of soiled wipes from me. He exchanged the generator to the heater with one that was fully charged and then put the used one in a gray plastic box. After he pulled on his coat, he tossed a brown paper bag and a bottle of water onto the bed and pointed at the green plastic box to my left.

"That is a chemical toilet. Use it." I stared at it and cringed. His voice caught my attention again when he pulled out a blanket. "When I am here you will not cover yourself." He handed me the blanket, waiting for a response. "Do you understand?" He quirked his eyebrow indicating he expected more than the stiff head nod I'd given him.

"Yes," I bit out—my hand itching to smack his smug face.

He took a set of keys out of his coat pocket, turned on the attached flashlight, and reached for the lanterns. "Wait!" I yelled. "Please leave the lights on!" One by one the lights went out as he made his way to the door. "You can't leave me here!" I screamed, but he already had the door open, letting freezing air fill the room.

There was total darkness on the other side of the door, either it was dark outside, or it wasn't an exterior door. He turned back one last time and whispered, "Sleep, my Princess, I'll be back soon."

I heard the clanking of metal on the other side as he secured what sounded like several locks. I waited until I couldn't hear him anymore, then I started screaming. My voice echoed, ricocheting off the block walls—loud and strong at first—then little by little it diminished until my throat was so raw, I couldn't make a sound.

The Pine Barrens was a vast and sparsely populated area. The chances that someone could hear me was astronomically low. My gut twisted at the realization. I focused on the chains, struggling and pulling as hard as I could. Tears streamed down my face as the metal cuffs cut into my skin, leaving my wrists and ankles a bloody mess.

Violent shivers racked my body as my mind thought up and discarded various plans of escape. The cold had seeped into my bones causing a physical ache that never stopped. I snuggled into the scratchy wool blanket, but I couldn't get my muscles to relax. What little warmth the heater put out, barely reached me from across the room, but I was grateful it kept me from total darkness.

What I needed was a weapon or something to pick the locks on the shackles. I felt around the narrow bed frame for a loose piece of metal and found that the long side was attached to the wall on hinges, allowing it to be raised when not in use. When I didn't find any loose pieces, I squeezed the mattress to see if there were coils inside, but it was made of cotton.

I was lying there thinking about what to do next when I felt something crawling on my leg. I screamed and jerked, frantically trying to shake whatever it was off me. Tears filled my eyes as the metal cuffs dug deeper into my open wounds. After I'd calmed down, I thought more about Hunter Durant. It was unbelievable to think a whimsical stroke of fate put me in his cross hairs just because I stopped for ice cream. And if the multiple stains on this mattress were any indication, I wasn't the first woman he'd brought here.

There was something fundamentally wrong with him, I could see it lurking in his eyes. He professed to love me, but he didn't know the meaning of the word. I was dead if I didn't get out of here. As bad as rape was, it was the least of my worries.

I tried consoling myself with the knowledge that people would miss me and come looking. That's what I kept telling myself, but what if no one was searching for me? Joe was away on another assignment and Ranger was in Miami working at his offices there and visiting Julie for the holidays. As far as anyone knew, I was safely enjoying my time off since Vinnie decided to close the bonds office until after the new year.

With nothing else to do and no way to get out, I curled into a ball and cried myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**You'll Catch More Flies With Honey Than With Vinegar**

The insistent pain in my bladder finally forced me awake. Assuming I was in my own bed as usual, I threw the blanket to the side and jumped up. As soon as the metal cuffs rubbed against my raw ankles, white, hot fire shot up my legs, and I fell back on the bed screaming. Tears streamed down my face as I panted for breath and waited for the burning inferno to fade. When it was finally bearable, I carefully adjusted the cuffs to minimize the pain and tried again to stand, but the tiniest movement had me hissing and grunting. Realizing I was only prolonging my agony, I decided the best course of action was to get it over with quickly. I took a deep breath, knowing it was going to hurt like hell and got to my feet as fast as I could.

I felt my way in the dark as I carefully hobbled to the so-called toilet, one miserable step at a time. My movements were hampered by the length of chain connecting my wrists and ankles. I estimated it to be about two feet in length—just enough to allow me limited movement—but not enough to walk normally. As if that wasn't enough to ensure I stayed imprisoned in this dungeon, I also had to endure the metal collar digging into the delicate skin along my neck and the chain leading up to the ceiling where it ran along a cord of some kind that spanned the length of the room. Essentially, I was no better than a dog on a leash, tethered to a runner, only allowed so much freedom before his cruel owner decided to punish it.

I did my business and had barely slipped back under the blanket when I heard scraping on the other side of the metal door. In an instant, my back came up off the mattress while my heart tried to punch its way through my chest. Seconds later, the door swung open and he stepped inside. I shivered as he stomped the caked-on snow from his boots and gave me a sideways stare. He didn't frown or make any overt gestures, but I got the feeling he was displeased. My fear ratcheted up another notch and I clutched the blanket tightly to my chest.

I kept my eyes on him as he crossed the room, turning on lanterns as he went. When I caught a whiff of the wonderful aroma coming from the gray box he carried, my stomach growled painfully. I ignored my discomfort in favor of gauging what his next move was going to be. He simply exchanged the generator that was powering the heater with another one, and laid two deli sandwiches, two packages of Dorito's, and two bottles of water on the table. When he was done laying the food out, he stood staring at me, the intensity of his gaze was unnerving. He was so quiet… I was terrified to move let alone break eye contact. I wish he'd just say something… anything. The longer he stared, the redder his face became and when the vein on the side of his neck started bulging, I knew I was going to pay dearly for some absurd transgression.

"What did I say about the blanket?" he spit out. He was controlling himself, but barely. I swallowed heavily, my mind racing to figure out what he was talking about. He stalked across the room, one heavy step at a time in no hurry to reach me. I wanted to scoot away, but somehow knew it would be the wrong thing to do. When the tips of his boots touched my bare toes, I looked up. "Remove it or I take it away," he said.

My hands clenched the edges of the blanket tighter. "I'm cold," I tried to explain, but my voice was so hoarse it came out in a pathetic croak.

He ran his hand through his curly hair, trying to suppress his anger. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you. Take. Off. The. Blanket."

When his voice went low like that, I knew he meant business. Knowing I didn't have a choice, I shrugged my shoulders to let the blanket fall onto the bed behind me. As soon as the icy air hit my nipples, they tightened painfully. On instinct, I covered my breasts with my hands as fast as I could. I was afraid he was going to try to touch me now that I was uncovered, but he only gave a satisfied nod and turned away. I was so hungry I didn't wait for an invitation. I fought through the pain and slowly got to my feet, wincing with each step as I followed him. The sound of the chain dragging along the floor was loud in the quiet room.

I stood at the table, unsure of what I should do. He unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite. "Sit down and eat," he ordered.

I dropped into the chair opposite him and quickly pulled the extra sandwich and bag of chips across the table. I wasted no time tearing the wrapper away and sinking my teeth into the ham on white bread. I was so lost in the taste of my food that I jolted when he spoke. "There was no mention of you in the news this morning." He said it like we were a normal couple, having casual conversation over breakfast.

My shoulders drooped. Three days and no one had reported me missing?

I hadn't expected to hear from Joe and after my last, uncomfortable conversation with Ranger, I didn't think he'd seek me out anytime soon. But my family should have been wondering why they haven't heard from me. While I let that sink in, I finished my sandwich and chips, taking my time with my water since I wasn't sure when I would get more.

"I have dessert," he said as he got to his feet, gathering our garbage. "But I think we should let our food settle first."

He slid the table back against the wall, revealing my nakedness. I crossed my legs and arms, hiding what the table had been shielding. He sat back down again, this time facing me with nothing in between. I felt like he was waiting for me to say something. "Thank you… " I paused. "For the food. It was… good." I wanted him to keep feeding me and it seemed like a safe thing to say. When he only stared, I pasted a fake smile on my face while my leg started to shake. "What is this place?" I let my eyes wonder to the ceiling, thinking we were in some kind of basement. "Do you live upstairs?"

His silence was making me sweat. Several seconds went by before his lips started to twitch and then they tipped up at the edges, turning into a sly smile. "Once upon a time, there _was_ a house, but not anymore." Just when I thought he wasn't going to say anything else, he continued. "I came across this old homestead when I was just a boy. There was nothing left but charred boards and the remnants of a brick chimney. I used to play up there for hours, digging in the rubble, and hunting for buried treasures. Then one day, I discovered a hatch in the ground. Imagine my surprise when it led down here to this cellar."

My mind scrambled to understand—to look for hidden clues about where I was. "Did you live nearby?"

He shook his head. His eyes were still staring, but I don't think he was seeing me. "My grandparents owned a cabin a few miles from here. I used to visit every summer since I was eleven."

If he was willing to talk, I needed to get as much information about him as I could. I had no idea what would be useful, and if I had any chance of getting away, I needed to understand who he was and what made him tick. "You didn't spend the summers with your parents?"

"My parents stopped paying attention to me a long time ago." He jumped to his feet. The sudden movement had me lurching back in my seat. He started walking around the room, preoccupied with his thoughts. When he got to a large curtained off area, he stopped. The way he stared at the dark brown fabric made me wonder what was behind there. "They blamed me for what happened to my sister." He glanced back at me as he toyed with the curtain. "My father became an alcoholic and my mother wallowed in depression and guilt." He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "My father always warned me about the dangers of driving drunk and then he went and did it himself, taking my mother to the grave with him." He shrugged. "By then, it didn't matter. They hadn't paid attention to me in years."

I could feel his sadness from across the room. My nerves were almost shot, but I needed to get inside his head. "What was your sister's name?"

His eyes brightened and then clouded, as if he was lost in memories. He was quiet for so long I didn't think he was going to answer. "Her name is Emmie. We're twins. We get our curly hair from our mother, but Emmie has more curls than me." He laughed as he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing the curl that had fallen over his forehead. "She has more curls than you too." He turned quiet again, seeing a picture that I couldn't. "She's our father's little Princess. That's what he always calls her. Whenever our parents wanted to give us a reward, Emmie always picks ice cream. It's her very favorite thing in the whole world."

I got the feeling something bad happened to her, but he made it sound as if she was an active part of his life. I was afraid to ask. What if he killed her? I took a deep breath, bracing myself for his response, and softly asked, "Where is Emmie?"

He kept talking as if he hadn't heard me. "She loved chasing lightning bugs," he said with a fond smile while looking to the side of my face off into some distant memory. "The summer we turned ten, Mommy called us inside to get ready for bed. Later, Emmie woke me up, daring me to go back outside with her. She knew I wouldn't let her go alone." His sad eyes met mine, pleading with me to understand… as if I could absolve him of some terrible crime he'd committed. Our eyes held for a minute and then he turned away and began pacing. "She was following a lightning bug when I lost her. I searched everywhere, but I thought she was playing a trick on me, so I got angry and went home." He came to a stop, eyes sad and full of guilt. "The next morning, she wasn't in her bed. Strangers from all over Western Pennsylvania searched day and night. They finally found her seven days later, curled up in a crevice, deep inside an abandoned mine shaft."

He'd managed to pull at my heartstrings. I was actually feeling sorry for him. What was wrong with me? He seemed to be waiting for some reaction from me, so I gave him a thin smile.

His nostril's flared and his voice went higher. "Mommy wouldn't stop crying. The rescue workers said Emmie was dead, but she wasn't. She was only resting." He started pacing again, shaking his head like an angry bull. "They said she died from lack of food and water, but they were lying."

The way he stared at me was unsettling. It was as if he was privy to some secret that I wasn't. I'd been so focused on the creepy way he was staring at me, I startled when he suddenly turned happy and laughed. "She's my best friend. She doesn't like the other boys at school. She says they're gross. When she grows up, she wants to marry me. She even arranged a ceremony once, in our backyard. She dressed our dogs up in her dolly's clothes to serve as guests and we promised to love each other forever."

I gulped—my throat so tense I could barely swallow. His obsession with his dead sister was like something straight out of a Stephen King novel.

"Mommy said not to look, but I saw Emmie that day." He appeared childlike as he looked right at me, but through me. "She was skinny, like a tiny little skeleton." He raised a hand to wipe tears from his cheeks. "I cried so hard when Mommy told me Emmie wouldn't be able to play with me anymore. It was all my fault. I thought she was playing another trick on me, but she needed my help and I let her down." He hung his head, letting his tears fall onto the concrete.

My heart wept for him.

My first instinct was to reach out and comfort him. Had I misjudged him? He'd been through a terrible tragedy. Then I remembered the chains and what he was doing to me and closed my eyes in disgust. What was wrong with me? Sure, his childhood was sad, maybe even the root of his insanity, but it didn't give him the right to keep me here.

He took a small object off the shelf along the left side of the wall. "My dad gave me this on the day I was born." He walked over and handed me a small, red, metal car. I held out my hand, not wanting to take it, yet afraid to refuse. "After my parents died, I came to live with my grandmother. She died just after I turned eighteen, and then it was just Emmie and me." He took the car back from me and placed it on the shelf. "That's when I started clearing the debris away. I wanted to build a special place for Emmie… for us." He pointed to the ceiling. I assumed he meant the ruins of the house that had once been above us. "If you didn't know to look for the hatch, you'd never know this place was down here."

That didn't sound good, but he had to be wrong. "If we're in the Pine Barrens, there has to be people around."

"Nearest dwelling is twelve miles away." He stared at me unblinking. "Do you think you could make it?" He chuckled and arched an eyebrow at me. "It's a little chilly out there."

"You could let me go." I reasoned. "I won't tell anyone about you. I'll just say I went on a trip. They'll believe it." My desperation showed through as my voice got higher and higher. "I have no idea where I am, you can blindfold me and let me out somewhere secluded and just drive away. I'll make my way home from there. It'll be like none of this ever happened."

He bit his lip and raised his eyes to the ceiling as if he was contemplating. I held my breath. Then he snickered and leaned over, hitting his hand on his jean clad leg. My eyes prickled, but I held the tears back. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my hopes dashed.

"Time for ice cream." He smiled and handed me a carton of Chunky Monkey, switching subjects as easily as turning a page in a book.

While I forced the ice cream down my throat, he sat across from me in his chair not taking his eyes off me. It occurred to me that it took money to feed me and I wondered what he did for a living. "Do you have a job?"

He swallowed the ice cream in his mouth and smiled. "My parents sued the mine for negligence, making me independently wealthy."

Great—looks like he has endless time to spend with me.

He took the empty ice cream container from me and motioned for me to stand. He placed my chair against the wall and went through the rest of his tidying ritual. While he was doing that, I was left standing in the middle of the room, clutching my bottle of water, afraid to move. This time I was determined to keep it with me. There would be nothing else to drink until he came back—if he came back.

My shoulders slumped in defeat when he made a circular motion with his finger. "Drink it!"

As I finished every last drop of the water, he got a bucket off the bottom shelf, squirted dish soap in it and took it to the sink. Once it was full, he sat it at my feet and took my empty bottle from me. "The water comes straight from the well. You'll want to give it time to come up to room temperature." He handed me a washcloth. "Wash yourself while I'm gone. If you don't do a good job, I'll do it myself."

Even though I felt grimy and disgusting, primping for him wasn't on my list of priorities, but a plan was slowly taking shape. "If I wash my hair with this dish soap, it will turn into a tangled mess."

His lips thinned and he gave an annoyed grunt. "What do you need?"

"I use Neuma moisture shampoo and conditioner and also DevaCurl styling cream. It's hard to find, but I have extra bottles in my apartment." My hope was for someone to notice him going into my apartment. Maybe Ranger and his men were watching by now and would follow him back here.

"Where do you usually buy them?"

"The hair salon." I tried to be vague.

He shifted his leg, impatiently. "Which salon?"

I let out a small dejected sigh but wasn't specific. "The one in the mall."

He didn't say anything else as he walked toward the curtained off area on the right side of the room. As he touched the curtain, he turned back to me, giving me a look I couldn't read. I wanted to know what was behind there but was afraid to ask. I sat on the bed—eyes wandering around the room.

"How are… " That was all I heard before his voice trailed off into low murmurings.

I held my breath—eyes darting left and right. Was he talking to me? I sat quietly… waiting… straining to hear. He sounded like he was carrying on a conversation. Was someone else back there? Is that why he had it closed off? Was it another woman? Was it his… sister?

The curtain was suddenly flung to the side, just enough for him to slip through, but not enough for me to see what was back there. I reared back, hitting my head on the wall behind me. He didn't look my way as he moved toward the door. I panicked. "Wait!" He stopped in his tracks and turned to me. I trembled. "What's back there?"

A slow smile broke across his face and then he reached for the door. I desperately called after him. "I'm hungry. Can I get more food… and water?" He didn't halt his stride, but at least this time, he left the lanterns on.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" I screamed and then I remembered I might not be alone.

"Hello," I called out, my voice sounding small and unsteady.

I waited.

Nothing.

I called out again. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know if anyone's back there." I still didn't hear anything. What if they were too hurt to answer? "If you can't speak, maybe you could make a noise… bang on something… if you can."

Still nothing.

I grabbed the blanket off the bed and draped it around my shoulders as I took a closer look at the room. This place reminded me of the crypts you see in old late-night movies… or ironically the lair of a serial killer. I noticed that everything was conveniently out of my reach except for the chemical toilet. The door he just exited through was immediately to the right of my bed and looked to be made of metal. I walked as close as my collar would allow and reached out, but the door was still more than a foot away. Even if I could have reached it, there was no knob, only a keyed dead bolt and I didn't have the key or means to pick the lock.

The floor to ceiling curtain started just past the door. It spanned almost the entire right side of the room and back corner. Letting my chain slide along the runner, I walked to the middle of the room. I'd almost gotten used to the foul stench down here, but the closer I got to the curtain the stronger it became. I had to raise the blanket to cover my mouth. It smelled like something rotten was behind there. I swallowed heavily—fear almost crippling my steps, but my curiosity was too powerful. I strained to touch the curtain, but just like the door, it was also out of my reach.

I wasn't willing to give up. I had to know. I reached out again, this time pulling against my collar until I felt my windpipe shift, but my hand was only met with air. Frustrated, I called out, "Hello… Is anybody back there?" I waited and when no sound came, I tried again. "Emmie?"

After waiting for several minutes with no response and no sounds, I continued surveying the rest of the room. A metal shelving unit with three shelves was situated on the left side. It held pots and pans, a hot plate, three large plastic boxes with lids, and a spool of chain like the kind attaching my shackles. A space heater sat on the concrete floor in front of it. Next came the plastic folding table and chairs and beyond that was a white enamel utility sink attached to the wall with a mirror hanging above. In the corner was a round steel tub about three feet in diameter and two feet high, turned upside down on the floor.

I cataloged the mirror as a potential weapon. If I got the chance, I could break it and stab him with a shard of glass, but for now, it was out of my reach.

I stared down at my bed again—my circle complete. The bucket of water at my feet, taunted me with its thirst-quenching ability… but the suds had ruined it. I leaned down to check it over, searching for a handle or something I could detach and use as a weapon, but it was a simple plastic bucket—minus a handle. I could always hit him with it, I thought. But that wouldn't do any damage… to him, anyway. The only thing I would accomplish is pissing him off, giving him reason to hurt ME.

I stuck my hand in the water, hissed, and yanked it out quickly. It was freaking icy. I didn't think waiting was going to make it get any warmer. The small heater could only do so much. I wanted to show my strength and refuse to wash, but his threat to wash me himself was all the incentive I needed. By the time I was done sponging off, my skin was turning blue and colder than before. He hadn't left a towel, so I wrapped the blanket around my damp skin, shivering mercilessly and curled into a ball on the bed, teeth tapping a staccato as my body racked with chills.

Finally, I drifted off, peaceful… at least for a little while.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**Keep Your Chin Up**

As soon as he walked through the door, I sat up on the bed, blanket wrapped around me, instantly alert. He had the same gray box in his hand as when he left. It must have been heavy because the table wobbled when he slammed it down. My eyes widened at his obvious anger and my heart started beating faster. He took his coat off and rolled up the sleeves on his flannel shirt. I was hyper focused on his every move—jumping at each loud sound he made.

He picked up the dead roses, dumping them in a garbage bag, and practically pounded the empty metal pitcher onto the shelf. His back was to me, but I could see him take in a large breath before turning around. He leaned against the table, arms crossed over his chest, veins popping out along his forearms. "Have you forgotten the rules?"

I gulped. Confusion and fear must have shown on my face. _What was he talking about now?_

In three strides, he was standing in front of me, so close he could hit me if he was inclined. His nostrils flared, but he was keeping his temper in check—barely. He held out his hand. "Give me the blanket."

My eyes went wide, and I shook my head back and forth quickly. "Please." My voice sounded weak to my ears. "It's so cold." I must have looked like a frightened child to him, but inside, I was seething with anger that he expected me to freeze while he remained fully clothed and warm.

His jaw clenched, grinding his back molars. "I don't like repeating myself." A defeated breath escaped through my lips and I let my shoulders droop forward, causing the blanket to fall around my waist. As soon as the cold air hit my bare skin, I started shivering with more urgency. He leaned down and whisked the blanket away, balling it in his hands. "If your good, I'll give it back when I leave, but if I have to tell you again to uncover yourself in my presence, I'll take it away permanently."

I licked my lips with my dry tongue and nodded, but he just stood there… waiting. "Yes," I quickly added, remembering he wanted verbal answers. Without any compassion for my discomfort, he pivoted on his heels and walked to the shelves, laying the blanket down and plugging in the hot plate. He simply went about his business, filling a large pot with water to boil. From the box, he removed a plastic cup and a familiar salon bag containing three bottles of hair products_. _

_Damn. Any hope of someone noticing him at my apartment went out the nonexistent window. _

The anticipation of wondering what he was doing was making my chest hurt, but my fear went into overdrive when he turned around and started walking toward me. Instead of giving into my desire to retreat, I used all my courage to remain seated on the edge of the bed, putting on a brave front. He gave me a small nod before leaning down to pick up the bucket of water he'd left me to wash with. After he emptied it in the sink, he turned over the steel tub in the corner and started filling it with the boiling water and tempering it with cold water. With every bucket of water he dumped into the tub, my heart beat a little faster. I was burning with rage. He'd lied to me. He said he wasn't going to bathe me—not if I did it myself. I had to bite the inside of my jaw to keep from lashing out at him and calling him a liar.

But what would that get me?

When the tub was full and he was satisfied with the temperature, he draped a towel on the edge of the sink. He held his hand out and motioned me over to the tub. I weighed my options. Comply and maybe I wouldn't be hurt or resist and surely pay a grave price. I didn't want any part of what he had planned, but since I was at his mercy, I had no choice but to obey. I slowly stood up and took a wobbly step, each more hesitant than the last, until the chain around my neck stopped me.

He closed the distance and took his keys out to unlock the collar and the cuffs on my wrists and ankles. I was free… finally. My chest fluttered in excitement and my eyes darted to the door, gauging how fast I could run, but the deadbolt needed a key and he had just put it back in the pocket of his jeans.

I rotated my wrists and neck, grimacing when my raw skin twisted. He reached for me again and I jerked away. The expression on his face was disappointment at first and then it turned hard with anger. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to get me through whatever he had planned. This time, when I felt his hand on my shoulder, I didn't shrink away. The longer he kept it there, the harder it was to be still and endure. My body started shaking and I was about to lose it.

Sensing my panic, he ran his hand down my arm until he stuffed his fingers in between mine and gave my hand a tight squeeze, letting me know that I didn't have a choice in what happened next. "Get in," he said, pulling me toward the tub. I did the only thing I could, I placed my hands on the edge of the tub and stepped inside, sinking down into the blissfully warm water. For the first time in days, I stopped shivering.

I raised my knees to my chest, resting my chin on the top of the water and tried not to draw away in fear when his hand slipped down beside me, scooping water into the plastic cup to pour over my head. The room was a silent tomb as he washed and rinsed my hair, but internally, I was screaming and raging and plotting his death.

My mind was racing with thoughts of what to do. I knew that washing my hair was just the beginning. He was going to try to wash the rest of me, but I couldn't let that happen. I had to find a way to do it myself. Before he could reach for the washcloth draped over the edge of the tub, I grabbed it up and swished it around in the water, wetting it. He didn't say anything, just simply motioned for me to hold the cloth out while he squeezed body wash onto it. He set the bottle aside and before I knew what was happening, he grabbed the cloth from me. "I can do it," I insisted as I tried to grab it back from him, my heart beating triple time.

He continued as if I hadn't spoken. Tears blurred my vison as he turned my face toward him, gently rubbing the cloth over my cheeks, nose, and lips. He was using his continuous gaze and tender caresses to forge a connection with me and to make this violation seem like a loving act. I closed my eyes, breaking whatever link he was trying to create, and taking back what little power I had.

His slow, deep breath let me know he was disappointed with my rejection, and I expected him to get rough, taking his frustration out on me, but he simply picked up my arm, dragging the cloth from my shoulder down to my hand. I couldn't help the hiss that escaped as the soapy cloth grazed over the wound on my wrist. He moved to the other arm, this time moving up my arm until he got to my shoulder and then across the top of my chest. For a second, I was frozen, and then I grabbed the cloth from him, scooting as close to the other side of the tub as I could go. Those few inches felt like a mile. "Please, let me do it?" I begged and started scrubbing hard at my chest and arms.

"Stop it!" I jumped at his raised voice and lifted my eyes to see his face while keeping the rest of my body hunched over into as small of an area as possible. "Look what you're doing to your skin." He shook his head in admonishment and then his voice turned soothing as he pried the soapy cloth from my hand and forced me to sit back. "Just relax and let me take care of you." He pressed me back against the tub as he moved the cloth down my chest at a leisurely pace, stopping when he got to the swell of my breasts. My eyes flooded with tears, but I fought against letting them fall. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me breaking down into a pile of pity.

Against my will, my nipples pebbled into tight buds and he silently stared at them before gently caressing each one. "Interesting," he remarked, eyes lighting up in wonder, as if he'd never touched a breast before. My eyes closed tight, and I turned away, causing his hand to slip off my breast. I braced myself, expecting him to force me back around, and things to escalate, but when I heard him getting to his feet, I opened my eyes just enough to see him retrieve the towel from the edge of the sink. "Stand up," he said, standing over me, holding the towel open, no expression on his face.

Relieved that bath time was over, I slowly straightened, making sure my vulnerable areas were covered as I stood. I couldn't help but shiver as the cold air hit my wet body. I caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink. It was so close. I could reach out and touch it if I wanted. But then I noticed the distortion and realized it was made of plastic… not glass. A swift pain hit my chest. Any hope I had of using it as a weapon dissolved, just like every other plan I'd come up with so far.

I reached for the towel, to cover my body, but he shook his head and began patting it against my dripping hair, soaking up the moisture. When he was done, he tossed it into the sink and I started to panic, thinking about all the things he was going to do to me now. As if he could read my mind, his arm snaked around my waist, holding me firmly in his steely embrace, my back against his chest. I choked on a scream as his hand began moving down my stomach, past my belly button. "Behave, or I'll have to punish you." His mouth was against my ear, breathing roughly but with a note of finality. "Trust me. You don't want that."

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to give into hysteria. For a second, I thought about elbowing him in the face. Instead, I curved my back forward and pushed back hard, causing him to stumble. He let me go as soon as he started floundering. He tried to recover by taking a couple steps back, but he forgot about the bucket behind him and tripped and fell on his ass. While he was down, I took off for the door. I spent precious seconds, futilely clawing at the metal, desperately trying to slip my fingers around the edges and find purchase to pry it open. Somewhere behind me, he growled low in his throat. Sounds of his boots slapping against the concrete had me doubling my efforts. And then I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck as he laughed at my pathetic attempts to free myself.

My head snapped back, and I shrieked when he grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking. I tried to keep my fingertips wedged in the sliver of space between the door and jamb, but he yanked harder. Flames shot up my fingers and I lost the ability to breathe as my nails broke off jagged and to the quick. I fought like a wild beast, twisting and thrashing to loosen his hold. I was losing this battle and he was barely exerting any effort as he dragged me across the rough concrete, tearing the skin on my back and buttocks with each step.

I scrambled to find purchase, grabbing onto his forearms as my feet danced to keep my body off the concrete. In one quick motion, he had my back against the pole in the center of the room and my wrists shackled on the other side. The hard metal rubbed over my raw wrists, igniting a blaze so sharp I almost lost consciousness. My head dropped forward, chin resting on my chest, my body and mind shutting down.

"You shouldn't have done that." He was nearly foaming at the mouth. I lifted my chin and met his eyes, ignoring the wrenching pain in my shoulders as tears flowed down my face. I was a sobbing mess with snot running from my nose and unable to catch my breath. In this position, with my breasts rising and falling rapidly, I was more vulnerable than ever. We were in a standoff, of sorts. Him staring at me—nostril's flaring—chest heaving. Me staring at him—nostril's flaring—chest heaving. When he turned away, my whole body would have dissolved into the floor had I not been chained to the pole.

He grabbed the other set of shackles from the floor and reattached them to my ankles before picking up the bucket and walking over to the tub. By the time he dipped the bucket into the warm soapy water and brought it over to me, sitting it at my feet, he was as calm as you please. He cocked an eyebrow and barely above a whisper, he said, "You never do a good job bathing. You're always too busy singing and playing in the bubbles."

His moods were giving me whiplash. He was insane—there was no doubt about it—and there was no way to reason with him. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut so I couldn't see what he was about to do. That didn't sit well with him. His hand squeezed around the wet cloth, causing water to splash into the bucket below, splattering my legs. "Open your eyes." He growled.

I flinched at his harshness and did as he demanded. My back was pasted to the pole, leaving no space to shrink away. I had to stand there and endure his touch. He started at my belly button, running the cloth around it in a teasing way and then downward. My stomach muscles clenched. I knew where he was headed. "Please," I begged as more tears flooded my eyes. "I'll do a good job. I promise. Just let me do it myself."

He tilted his head, eyes moving over my face, searching for something, but I had no idea what. His hand moved lower again, past my belly button. His attention alternated between watching my reaction and watching where his hand was going. When he grazed the flesh above my pubic bone, I tensed and locked my ankles together in a death grip. My whole body shook—from cold—from fear—from disgust. And then he did what I'd feared from the start. He pushed his cloth covered fingers into my slit, inching his way between my folds, invading and retreating.

I turned my head away as a sob ripped through me. I went up on my toes to eject his fingers, but those inches offered no escape, his hand simply followed. I couldn't be still and let him do this to me. I twisted by torso and my legs back and forth with the limited amount of movement I was capable of. He let me struggle for a few minutes and then he released an angry breath through his nose, wedged his booted foot between my ankles, kicking them apart. My right foot slid along the concrete, causing the metal cuffs to dig in. The pain was so intense, everything turned black.

I was frozen for what seemed like forever. I couldn't breathe or see or think. Finally, my lungs demanded air—great amounts of air. As if I'd been shocked back to life with electrical paddles over my heart, I gasped and started gulping. My chest heaved in and out and tears streamed down my face. This wasn't happening, I tried to convince myself. If I thought it enough times, it would be true. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to think of a happy place, but there wasn't one.

I don't know how long I existed in the fog, but finally, his voice registered. "Are you going to behave or am I going to have to leave you chained to this pole?"

Sniffling, I nodded my head even though he'd made it clear he expected verbal answers when he asked me a question. By doing so, I was directly violating one of his 'rules.' It didn't take a brain surgeon to understand that by threatening me with horrible acts of physical punishment and withholding food from me, he was training me to behave in a way that pleased him. Knowing that fact didn't change a damn thing. Even though complying with his demand was the last thing I wanted to do, I had to show him that I was willing to cooperate. From somewhere deep inside, I mustered up enough force to push sound through my lips. "B… behave," I said and then fell silent, waiting to see what he was going to do next.

He quirked an eyebrow, scrutinizing my trembling body, making me anxious. When he dropped to his knees, my heart fell to the floor with him, but all he did was gather the bucket and washcloth and move behind me, tugging on my arms until they were free. I breathed a sigh of relief as I brought them around to the front, careful of the pain in my shoulder and shook them to get the blood circulating again. The chain hung from my left arm, allowing the empty shackle to dangle on the floor. My mind was feeling sluggish and while I entertained thoughts of slinging it at him, hitting him in the eyes, maybe even blinding him with it as I hit him over and over, he quickly snatched it up and had it reattached to my other wrist in seconds. I wanted to kick myself for not acting quicker.

He paid me no mind as he moved the heater closer to the bed and retrieved a hairbrush from the box of supplies. I was still standing with my back against the pole, afraid to move. He finally looked up at me as he sat down on the bed, patting the area beside him. "Come here." I didn't want to go to him, but I was afraid not to obey. He was becoming more dangerous by the second and I was starting to doubt if I would survive what he had planned.

I took a hesitant step. When I got within reach, he pulled me down beside him, and pressed my head onto his lap. "Your curls were the first thing I noticed about you." He spoke quietly while running the brush through my wet hair. I've always had a love hate relationship with my hair, but I never hated these damn curls more than I did right now. The way he toyed with them, stretching the strands out and letting them spring back, made my stomach turn. If there was anything in it, I would have vomited.

"What do you want from me?" I asked quietly.

He paused midway through a stroke. "Isn't it obvious—?" When I didn't respond, he started humming softly as he continued to brush my hair. "Emmie said you are **'The One' **and that I need to be patient with you so that you will come to love me back. I'm going to show you how well I can take care of you—and then you'll fall in love with me… Emmie says so."

"Love is freely given," I stammered and tried to push away from him, but he pressed on my shoulder, keeping me down. I let out a defeated sigh. "How can I love you when you've taken all my choices away?"

He released the pressure on my shoulder, letting me sit up on the bed beside him. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. "Show me that you can love me." Sitting this close, I could see his strong jaw lined with at least a day's worth of stubble. As he leaned closer, puckering his lips mere centimeters from mine, I hesitated, unsure if I could fake a kiss to literally save my life. Mistaking my hesitation for invitation, he closed the gap. As soon as his lips touched mine, I reared back, heart pounding, afraid of where this could lead. "Why did you pull away?" His eyes clouded with confusion. "Was I doing it wrong?"

Wrong! Everything about this was wrong.

Wait… was he telling me he'd never kissed a woman before?

He watched me, expectantly. I had to say something. Something that would make him stop and yet wouldn't anger him. But what? I looked down, studying my bare feet and said, "It's too soon. I don't really know you."

He gave a quick nod of acceptance and kissed the top of my head before he got to his feet. While I sat in front of the heater letting my hair dry, he busied himself pouring the water from the tub down the sink and putting all the bathing things away. When he was done, he turned to me. "You must be hungry." He took a large paper bag and the small cooler out of the gray box he'd brought and sat them on the table. "How does hotdogs sound?" When I didn't respond, he pointed to the bag. "Go ahead."

I desperately wanted to dig into that bag, but I was afraid it was a trick—just another way to punish me. I kept my eyes on him—judging—assessing—as I slowly walked to the table and stuck my hand inside. I was relieved to find he'd been telling the truth. Being careful of my sore fingertips, I pulled out two packages of hotdog buns, a can of chili with a pop top, packets of mustard and ketchup, and a package of wieners. If he wanted me to cook, he was out of luck, but this… this I could manage.

He pulled his chair close and sat down as if he was watching the Food Network and I was Paula Deen. "Plug the hotplate into the generator—And use the griddle. I like grill marks on my hotdogs." I did as he said, trying to avoid using my injured fingertips as I spread the wieners out evenly on the griddle and emptied the chili in a saucepan to have ready when the wieners were done. I kept glancing up at him, gauging his reactions while I surreptitiously cataloged everything in sight. The griddle could do a lot of damage if I hit him just right and throwing hot chili in his face could blind him. My heart pounded. Could I do it? Would it work?

There was just no way I could get the key from him _and_ open all the locks on the door in time. If I failed—he'd really hurt me. No, I needed to be smart—wait for the right moment, when my chances of success were better—then I'd make my move.

The wieners started to sizzle, and I removed the griddle, replacing it with the saucepan of chili. It didn't take long before it was bubbling. "There are paper plates and plastic utensils in the box," he said. "Go ahead and set the table."

I thought about the damage I could do with a plastic fork—probably not much. A better use would be to somehow hide it from him and later use it to pick my locks. If I couldn't get the locks open with it, I could always poke his eye out. I focused back on my task. "Um… how many hotdogs do you want?"

He gave it some thought. "I think I'll take four. What about you? Hotdogs are your favorite."

_I haven't cared for hotdogs since I worked at Dave's Hotdog Stand that summer in high school. Polishing off the leftovers each night made me sick of them—literally. _

I looked at the package and quickly calculated. There were ten wieners. If he ate four, that would leave six for me, if I dared ask for that many. I weighed my options, giving consideration to when my next meal would come. Probably at his next visit which would be the next day. "I think I'll take six." I watched his reaction, relieved to see an amused smile.

"You think you can put away six hotdogs _and_ dessert?" He quirked an eyebrow, smiling playfully and then shook his head. "I bet you can't do it."

I wasn't sure how to respond so I smiled and went with playful as well. "If we're making a wager, shouldn't I get something if I win?"

He thought about it for a minute, delighted that I was playing along. "What do you want?"

It needed to be something small, but helpful. "I'd like you to leave an extra bottle of water this time."

He fought to keep from grinning. "You have a deal, but I'll be watching you since you like to cheat." I had no clue what he was talking about. I'd never competed with him before.

The smell of food was making my stomach growl. I added chili to each bun and unplugged the hotplate. He pulled the table out a little more and arranged our chairs. He smirked as he took his first bite. He didn't think I could win our wager, but for as much as he pretended to know me—he didn't.

My first bite was delightfully satisfying—maybe even the best thing I'd ever eaten. I finished off one hotdog and was feeling stronger than I had since I woke up down here. By the end of the second one, I was starting to slow down, but there was no way I'd leave even a bite on my plate.

He finished before me and sat watching intently. Finally, I took my last bite and looked down to see a rogue chili bean that had fallen onto my plate. I grabbed it and hurriedly put it in my mouth. He sat back in his chair clapping. "Well done," he laughed. "I have to admit; I didn't think you could do it. That was almost as fun as the time the pizza delivery guy brought us the wrong pizza. Do you remember how angry Mommy was?"

My eyes widened with new understanding. He truly was confusing me with his sister. It wasn't that I simply reminded him of her… he thought I actually _was_ her. This took crazy to a whole new level. It also meant I was going to have to change how I dealt with him. While my brain was occupied trying to make sense of his mental state, he was rattling on about his childhood. "You hate mushrooms as much as I do, but you dared me anyway. You should have seen your face when you stuck that squishy thing in your mouth." He laughed and shook his head at my perceived stubbornness. "Never could win a dare with you, could I?" He didn't wait for me to respond. I was glad because, right then, I was at a loss as to how to proceed. "But maybe I haven't lost after all," he said as he opened the cooler and pulled out two pints of what he referred to as 'our' ice cream. "You still have dessert to eat." He leaned forward, smiling mischievously.

I took my time eating the ice cream, thinking and analyzing my situation. It was clear that he wanted me to be dependent on him for food and basic survival. I was his prisoner and my life literally rested in his hands. Not only that, but he was trying to manipulate my emotions in order to make a connection with me. I could see it plain as day. Having someone at your mercy for their very survival was the perfect way to force them to develop an attachment to you. Yesterday's sob story about his sister's death and his parent's abandonment during the aftermath was designed to evoke pity from me. Maybe he was doing it intentionally and maybe he wasn't, but my Spidey sense told me it came naturally to him and that scared the hell out of me. It might have worked with someone else. Most people have an innate need to find the good in others, but that hasn't been my experience. I've seen what the bottom of the barrel of humanity has to offer and it's sad to admit, but nothing surprises me anymore. If Hunter Durant thinks he can turn me into his obedient mate by twisting my emotions into thinking he's a good person then, he's going to be sorely disappointed.

I kept stuffing my mouth with ice cream, knowing that I had to do whatever it took to get that extra bottle of water. Just as he dipped his spoon into his carton for another bite, he looked up at me from under hooded lashes and smiled, making me think he was in a good mood, so I decided to try a new approach. "Have you seen the new Star Wars movie?" I asked.

His eyes widened, surprised that I initiated conversation, and his spoon paused mid-way to his mouth. "No." He shook his head. "I haven't been to a movie in years."

"I haven't either." I continued eating as if it were normal to be sitting in a cellar eating ice cream naked. "We should go." I suggested casually.

He titled his head, studying me. "That's a good idea, but I have a better one. I can bring my handheld DVD player and we can watch whatever you want."

That wasn't what I was going for. I wanted to give him a reason to take me out of here, so I could find an opportunity to escape. "DVD's are good, but there's nothing like the big screen."

His palm came down on the table, slapping it with a loud smack. I jumped in my chair, dropping a dollop of ice cream off my spoon onto the table. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he screamed. I swallowed hard and gave my head a quick shake, my breathing accelerating exponentially as I kept my eyes on the table, watching the ice cream melt. Just as quickly as his anger erupted, it was gone, and he was smiling openly again. "This is my last bite," he said as he scraped the bottom of the carton. "What about you?"

I nodded to let him know that this was also my last bite which meant that I was going to win our bet. It was no small feat, but I was relieved I'd finished everything. When I looked up, he was giving me the smile of an evil genius. It made me uneasy. Had I fallen for some trick?

"You didn't eat it all," he taunted, looking at the melting bite that had fallen off my spoon when he smacked the table. Not willing to lose on a technicality, I took my fingers with their jagged nails broken off into the quick and scraped the ice cream off the table, sticking them in my mouth. Low laughter filled the room. "Alright. Looks like you win."

I felt relief down to my toes.

He motioned to the sink. "Wash the pans and put all the garbage in that bag." He watched me like a hawk as I worked, giving me no opportunity to slip the plastic fork away and there was nowhere to put it even if I could. When I finished, he grabbed the blanket from the shelf and led me over to the bed where he reattached the chain to my collar. His hand lingered on my jaw, caressing, and then he handed me the bottle of water I'd won as if I should be grateful for the gift he was bestowing on me. "I have to go now," he smiled. "But I'll be back tomorrow. Be a good girl while I'm gone."

"Can't you leave me some food?" I asked as he started to walk away. "What if you get delayed or something? I won't have anything to eat?"

He turned back, giving me a look that I've seen Valerie give my nieces when they are pestering her to stay up past bedtime. "Nothing will keep me away. I promise."

My hopes sank as he went behind the curtained area. While he was back there, I heard low whispers but couldn't make out anything distinctive. I was so focused on listening that when he quickly emerged, my eyes widened, and I gasped. "Wh… What's back there?"

He tilted his head to the side, weighing his thoughts, face devoid of any emotion. "I don't think you're ready for that… yet."

A chill went through me when I noticed how empty his eyes were.

He grabbed up the gray box and garbage bag without another word and walked to the door, pausing to take out his key. When I heard the clicking sounds on the other side, I knew he was locking me inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

**Out of Sight Out of Mind**

I don't know how long I'd been lying on the bed, my eyes following the jagged line of slimy green rainwater making its way down the block wall across the room. The water was coming in through a crack in the weakened mortar close to the ceiling. It must have been going on for years and would likely remain that way until one day the whole place crumbled in on itself.

The longer I lay there, the harder it was to convince myself the walls weren't closing in on me. Ever since I'd woken up in Constantine Stiva's silk-lined casket, fearing I'd been buried alive, I'd suffered from bouts of claustrophobia. As soon as those helpless feelings would surface, my heart would start to race, and I'd break out in a cold sweat. The only way to find relief was to head out in into a wide-open space, but that wasn't going to happen now that I was shackled down here.

Even though it didn't lessen the tightness in my chest or make it any easier to breathe, I counted myself lucky that Durant had started leaving the lights on when he wasn't here. It gave me a measure of comfort to be able to see what was crawling on my skin and not have to imagine what horrible monsters were going to come out from behind that curtain and get me under the cover of darkness.

With each passing hour, my hope of rescue dwindled. For the hundredth time, my empty stomach groaned painfully, and I did my best to ignore it. He was only bringing food once a day and I could already tell I was losing weight as well as strength. I knew if I just lay here doing nothing, my muscles would atrophy, and I might lose out on an opportunity for escape. I couldn't let that happen. I had to be ready.

I started with a few sit-ups and after I'd raised myself up for my last one, I turned over, struggling through five pushups. When I finished with the pushups, I got up and started walking back and forth across the room on my tether, searching for a weapon or a way out. I was on the far side of the room when I heard noises at the door. Not wanting him to find me up and moving around, I quickly ran over to the bed and sat down, shrugging the blanket off at the last minute. I didn't want to test his patience. Losing the blanket was a risk I wasn't willing to take.

My jaw dropped open when he entered. He was wearing a dark suit and red tie, hair slicked back with something that made it appear shiny, and he was carrying the same gray plastic box. I told myself this was a quick stop to drop off supplies before he went to an important meeting or maybe he had a date with some poor unsuspecting woman.

As soon as I smelled the savory scent coming from the box, my stomach took notice. It churned and growled, demanding to be fed. As if I wasn't shooting unfriendly daggers at him, he gave me a flirty smile and continued past me to sit the box on the table. He discarded his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves on his white button-down shirt. I bit my lip in dread when he started filling the usual pot with water to heat on the hot plate. When steam started rising, I envisioned grabbing the pot and throwing the boiling water in his face. I smiled at the thought of his skin blistering and melting away, leaving him with no mouth to smile his evil little smile.

After he poured the last of the hot water into the tub, he took the keys out of his pocket and knelt to remove my shackles. He slowly got to his feet and began unlocking the collar around my neck. "Stand up," he said as he stepped back, holding his hand out to help me up.

I'd barely made it through the last bath, I didn't think I could do it again.

But the consequences… ? I complied with his orders.

He helped me into the tub, this time not bothering to wash my hair. There was something different in the way he was touching me. Instead of drawing the bath out, he was quick and efficient. He was almost clinical in his task. Once he was done, and I was dried off, he led me back to the bed and walked over to the shelves, rummaging around in the gray box. I wasn't surprised when he pulled out the hairbrush, but I was baffled to find him also holding a porcelain doll wearing a red Victorian style dress.

He casually walked back over and held the doll out to me. "If I let you play with this while I fix your hair, you have to promise to be careful with it." I was afraid to refuse. I nodded my head, and reached for the doll, but he didn't hand it over. He appeared to be waiting for something and then I remembered he wanted me to use verbal answers.

"I… I'll be careful," I said even though I wasn't sure why he wanted me to hold it or why it was so important to him.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed, motioning for me to sit on the floor between his legs. While he brushed my hair, I studied the doll, noticing a remarkable likeness to me, including blue eyes and brown curly hair. It was also apparent that someone had taken very good care of, but the doll was old, maybe by a couple decades or so. It struck me then that this doll represented something from Durant's past—something important—something I didn't want to know about.

"When you told me about your pretty red dress, it reminded me of Emmie's favorite doll." He hummed as he worked to arrange my curls in an updo. "Do you remember me showing you the car my dad gave me when I was born?" He didn't wait for my answer. "Every year for our birthday and Christmas, my parents would buy me a new car and Emmie a porcelain doll." He pointed to the doll in my hand. "This is her first one. The resemblance to our mother is uncanny. Emmie spends hours grooming them and telling me all about their imaginary lives. Then she puts them back in their special display case."

I sat quietly with the doll in my lap while he worked a particularly difficult knot out of my hair, listening carefully, feeling he was telling me this story for a purpose. When he yanked a little too hard, I winced and tried to move away, but he simply laughed and said, "Mommy's not here, so you to can't tattle on me for pulling your hair." My eyes widened. Does he want me to play along with his fantasy? Should I? Before I could decide the best course of action, he leaned around to see my face and asked, "Do you think my hair would look like yours if I let it grow?"

His closeness was making me uncomfortable. There was no way I could meet his eyes, but intuitively, I felt looking away wasn't the right move. I directed my gaze a little to the left of his face, focusing on the wall behind him, and said the only thing I could think of. "I think your curls are probably softer than mine." Once the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded, but I was hoping that any kind of compliment would be a step in the right direction. When he smiled, I let out a small breath of relief.

He got up and walked across to the room, pulling a medium sized suitcase out of one of the plastic boxes on the shelf. While his back was turned, I reached up and slipped one of the bobby pins out of my hair and shoved it under the mattress. I didn't know how to pick a lock, but I was going to give it my best shot.

My heart was beating triple time, afraid he was going to catch me. I'd just pulled my hand out from under the mattress when he turned around with the case in his hands. He brought it over and sat it on the bed. Inside was a professional makeup kit that looked like it'd been used before. "Here, let me have that back." He took the doll from me and carefully laid it on the bed and then he grabbed a small blusher brush and sat down. "Turn around and get up on your knees so you can look up at me."

His behavior was making me more nervous than usual, but I did as he said, getting on my knees between his spread legs. "We were lucky to find you that day in the grocery store." He held my chin between his thumb and forefinger while meeting my eyes. "Emmie knew the moment she saw you that you were destined to be my wife."

I gulped at his intensity and tried not to outwardly react. I knew it was in my best interests not to argue with him, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. "You're wrong." I gave my head a tiny shake, trying to convince him. His frown told me he pitied me because I didn't understand.

He brushed my denial off and began applying more makeup to my face, finishing with a tube of garish red lipstick. He leaned this way and that, scrutinizing the colors and the way he'd applied them. "You get more beautiful every time we do this."

I swallowed hard. _Every time?_

As if he hadn't just confused the shit out of me, he got up and went over to the shelves again, this time retrieving a package wrapped in delicate tissue from the gray box and bringing it over to me. "Open it." His smile was bright and full of mischief, waiting for my reaction. I stood on jittery legs, hesitantly taking the box, and slipping the lid off. When I pulled the paper back, I saw a red dress that closely replicated the one the doll was wearing, but in my size. I looked up to see him smiling expectantly, but I had no words. I could do nothing but stand there with my mouth hanging open.

"I had it specially made," he said, almost giddy now as he held the yards and yards of shiny red material trimmed in black lace out to me. "Go ahead. Put it on." I'd been wishing for clothing, but something told me putting this dress on wasn't going to be good for me. Knowing I had no choice, I swallowed hard, and carefully stepped into the circle of fabric, pulling it up over my hips. "Turn around," he said and began zipping the back of the off the shoulder dress.

After I was situated to his satisfaction, he handed me the doll and reached into the suitcase, pulling out a box with an old polaroid camera inside. As he lifted the camera, I saw stacks of pictures underneath, but couldn't make out who was in them. In the next moment, he had the camera at his face, clicking pictures of me. I didn't even attempt a smile. When he noticed that I was just standing there not responding to his impromptu photo shoot, he shook his head with mild disappointment. "Smile," he said, as he moved my arm, posing me with the doll, preparing to take another picture. I pasted on a smile, trying hard to keep up the pretense of happiness when all I wanted to do was rip the vile fabric from my body and shove it down his throat. He breathed out a heavy breath and I wondered if I'd angered him so badly that he was going to hurt me, but he simply narrowed his eyes and frowned. "The way you're acting makes me think you aren't happy to be wearing such a pretty dress."

Knowing I was treading on unstable ground, I got with the program, hoping it would all be over quickly. Once he'd captured all the pictures he wanted, he motioned for me to sit on the bed while he put the camera, makeup, and doll back in the suitcase and took it over to the shelf to put away. Then he proceeded to set the table with candlesticks, a rose in a bud vase, and a white linen tablecloth, making sure to light the long, tapered candles. He added fine china and silverware, instead of paper and plastic. Then he transferred two Styrofoam boxes of food onto the plates and added a bottle of wine and two glasses. When everything was ready, he came to me and held out his arm, like a gallant gentleman. I had no choice but to stand and link my arm in his as he led me to the romantic scene he'd prepared.

"You look lovely," he said before seating me.

He was waiting for me to respond to his compliment with a smile or a thank you, but I kept my face blank. The last thing I wanted to do was encourage him romantically. As I adjusted my dress in the chair, he pushed play on the CD player. Soft music filled the cellar, setting a mood that made me fidget with unease.

As he took his seat on the other side of the table, I had my eye on the bottle of wine, contemplating all the ways I could use it to knock him out or better yet, break it and use the glass to slash his throat. Before I could get up the nerve, he poured the wine and lifted his glass for a toast. "To the beginning of a wonderful life together." He held his glass… waiting. Reluctantly, I clicked my glass to his and took a sip. "I don't like the feeling of being out of control, which is why I don't usually drink, but I don't think one glass will hurt," he said as he picked up his knife and fork.

I thought that was a good idea. I'd rather he didn't lose control either. In my experience, mentally unstable people became even more dangerous under the influence.

After forcing thoughts of him murdering me in a drunken haze out of my mind, I looked down at the plates in front of us. Each of them had large portions of chicken cordon bleu with seasoned red potatoes and asparagus. Since I wasn't given a knife, I was forced to use my fork to cut into the succulent meat. I didn't waste any time sticking that first bite into my mouth. As soon as I closed my lips around the piece of chicken, wonderful flavors burst across my tongue. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me expectantly. I pasted a smile on my face appearing appropriately grateful. "It's good—thank you."

His face broke out in a smile. "I wanted this night to be special. I'm glad I made the right selection."

Ominous butterflies fluttered in my belly. I didn't want to ask, but the question just flowed out. "What's the special occasion?"

His soft smile had made him appear happy and carefree, but now his lips were flat and a little foreboding. "Tonight, marks the end of your old life and the beginning of our new one together."

Those fluttering butterflies turned into a full-blown cyclone. I had a hard time focusing after that cryptic statement. My thoughts were centered on all the horrible things he could have in store for me. Trying to appear unfazed, I directed my attention back to my food, knowing it would be my only meal of the day… and maybe my last. I surreptitiously kept watch on his knife, hoping he'd get careless and I'd be able to grab it.

Once we'd finished our meal, he leaned back in his chair, giving me further orders. "Clear the table, and we can have ice cream." I didn't waste a second. I got straight up and came around to his side. I was going to take the knife and slip it in my dress, but before I could reach for it, he grabbed it up and stored it in the box.

I deflated both physically and mentally. It was as if he could sense every time I was getting ready to make a move. I was almost sure there was smoke coming out of my ears, I was so angry. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that his back was still turned away. I grabbed for the wine bottle, but just as I was about to put my hand around the neck of the bottle, he turned around. I busied myself stacking the plates, hoping he hadn't noticed I'd been about to brain him over the head.

After everything was cleared away, we sat and ate the Chunky Monkey ice cream. He attempted to make small talk, but my stomach was so wound up with worry over what he had planned, I couldn't respond. When we finished, he put the table and chairs away and held his hand out to me, stopping short of taking a bow. "Dance with me?"

He phrased it as a question, but we both knew I didn't have a choice. I let him sweep me up in his toxic embrace and twirl me across the cold concrete floor. As we danced, my mind was occupied trying to understand his motivations. He proclaimed his love for me, but so far, he hadn't forced himself on me and that was puzzling.

Without warning, his mouth descended, gently moving back and forth across my lips. My heart jack-hammered in my chest. He took my stunned silence for acceptance and forced his tongue inside my mouth. I kept myself still. Finally, he pulled his mouth off mine and I fought the urge to wipe his spit away. He smiled timidly and then buried his face in my neck, hugging me to him. "Did you like that?" he asked, uncertainly.

There was no way I could verbally agree, but I was afraid of what he would do if I spurned him completely. When the silence became awkward, he pulled back so he could see my face. I took one look in his eyes and made the only gesture I could. I nodded slightly, forcing a thin smile that I hoped looked sincere. Pleasure transformed his face, and just as quickly, it turned to confusion. "You're different than the others. They all cried when I touched them."

Others? My heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. "Who… who cried?"

He placed his hand on my throat, running his fingers over the skin where the collar had rubbed me raw. "I don't want to talk about them," he said. "This is our time."

I could do nothing but stand there heaving as my breasts stretched the stitching at the bustline of my dress while his fingers moved lower, tracing and teasing. In the next instant, he pulled the bodice down, exposing my breasts to his hungry eyes. My breathing came faster. In. Out. In. Out. I turned my head from side to side, looking for a place to go.

He stared at my breasts—transfixed, cupping the underside, lifting them to feel their weight. "They're heavier than I thought." He bit the side of his lip in thoughtful wonder and squeezed. "They're so soft, too."

My mind was reeling. I didn't know what to do or how to respond. While I was debating the best way to get him to stop touching me, he grabbed my hand, placing it over his crotch, forcing me to squeeze him through his pants. He continued manipulating my hand, kneading and rubbing his soft cock, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't get hard. Finally, his frustration grew to be too much. He gave his hips one final thrust and threw my hand away.

I took a breath, relieved his body wasn't reacting, but my relief was short lived. "Undo my pants," he said, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Even though I heard the unmistakable demand in his voice, I gave a terrified shake of my head and started backing away. He didn't try to stop me. There was no need. I backed myself right into the center support pole and he wasted no time closing the distance. He pushed his body against mine, his crotch notched in the V of my legs. "Do it," he growled.

My heart was pounding, and my breathing was erratic, but I just stared at him, unmoving. He blew out a frustrated breath, unclasped his belt and opened his pants. My stomach tightened, the room started to spin, and I thought I was going to be sick. He quickly grabbed hold of my wrist and shoved my hand inside his underwear. I kept my hand limp and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He bent my fingers around his clammy flesh; the backs of my knuckles brushing against his wiry pubic hairs. "Make it hard!" he said as he thrust his pelvis into my hand.

There was no way to keep the revulsion from showing on my face. "You don't have to do this." I tried to reason.

His face turned red with fury and he tightened his grip, almost crushing my fingers. "What I need is for you to make me hard," he screamed and loosened his hold, suddenly disgusted by me. I quickly yanked my hand out of his underwear, holding it away from my body, sickened by what he'd made me do. He stepped closer, chest touching mine as he looked down at me, seething. "You're just like all the rest of them. You smile at me and make me fall in love, and then you turn on me. All I want to do is make love to you, but you can't even stand to touch me."

His hand was a blur, as the back of it landed across my jaw, smashing the back of my head into the pole. After a swift intake of breath, I blinked—stunned at first—and then put my hand over my jaw, protecting it from another blow. He stepped back, breathing hard and turned around, trying to collect himself.

I slid to the floor, ignoring the splinters being driven into my back on the way down. I tucked myself into a ball, making myself as small as possible. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head off the floor. I screamed and reached down to support my weight as my hair was being ripped out by the roots. "I'm… sorry," I said in between ragged breaths as I came up on my knees to relieve the burning in my scalp. He pulled harder until I was fully upright, my back against the pole, my toes barely touching the floor. Tears were streaming down my face. I needed to diffuse his anger, or he was going to kill me. "You're… hurting me." I put my hands on his forearms to appeal to him. "If you love me… " I let the words fall away.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. I was finally getting through to him. Suddenly, he loosened his hold on my hair and stepped back, breathing heavily as he paced and whispered to himself. I slumped against the pole, trying to stay on my feet for fear he'd come at me again. I thought I'd seen crazy in the past—Ramirez, Abruzzi, Vlatko—they were all insane, but Durant was on a whole new level. Every visit unveiled another layer of his insanity. I wasn't sure how much more I was going to be able to survive.

He suddenly stopped, coming to some sort of decision, and faced me. I met his eyes head on, waiting for the verdict. When I noticed how much his face had softened, I expelled the pent-up breath I'd been holding. "You're right," he said. "The other's failed me, but you're different. You understand me." He put both hands on my shoulders for emphasis. I couldn't help flinching at his touch, but he didn't seem to notice as his hands roamed from my shoulders down to my hips, getting caught on a piece of torn lace. "You've ripped the dress," he said as he turned me around so he could get a closer look. "This will have to be fixed." He carefully lowered the zipper, sliding it lower and lower until his knuckles grazed my ass. I leaned on the pole for support as I stepped out of the bulky fabric and watched him fold it and placed it back in the box. In that small amount of time I'd gotten used to being clothed again and now I felt more naked than ever.

He kept giving me furtive glances, but never looking me full in the face, which was fine by me. As far as I was concerned, if he wasn't going to give me more food or water then he could leave right now. I didn't care that he might feel guilty for hitting me and I wasn't going to do anything to make his tiny conscience feel better. He licked his lip and hesitantly took my arm, walking me over to the bed. He sat down first, not letting go of my hand and then pulled me down onto his lap, cradling me in his arms as if he was giving comfort to a small child. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted my forehead and lip. I winced as he pressed and when he pulled the white linen away, it was dotted with drops of blood. "You'll be fine, it's just a couple little cuts."

I was barely listening to his words. My emotions had overloaded, and I was shutting down. He moved me off his lap and gently pressed my shoulder, indicating he wanted me to lay my head on his legs. I didn't have a choice and didn't fight him. He ran his hands lovingly over my curls, stopping to pull the bobby pins from my hair. "Why do you make me hurt you?" he asked softly, with his chest hunched over me, rocking us both back and forth.

I didn't have an answer and I don't think he expected one.

Several minutes passed before he started speaking again. This time his voice was even more quiet, if that were possible. "Do you know what happens to your body when you go without food and water?" My eyes blinked open and I craned my head to look up at him. "It's not pretty," he continued as he stared at the curtain, deep in thought. As if sensing I was getting ready to jump up and run for the door, he pushed my head back down on his lap and held it there securely while he finished with his veiled threats.

"You can go weeks without food. Did you know that, Princess?" He stopped talking and eased the pressure on my head, waiting for an answer. Within my limited confines, I gave my head a tiny shake and he began stroking my hair again. "The real problem is going without water. Doctors can't answer that question definitively, but I've found with the conditions down here, you can last three days before your blood starts to thicken." He stopped talking—stopped stroking—letting that sink in. I held my breath waiting for the rest of his frightening visual. "It gets so thick it can't circulate through your veins, causing lots of problems. First you hallucinate, then the vomiting starts, and then finally your body goes into shock when your organs shut down."

I'd never been more frightened in my life.

"As long as you cooperate, I'll provide for you." He forced me to sit up so he could look into my eyes. "Are you going to cooperate?"

"Yes." I closed my eyes and whispered.

Sometime later, I woke, confused and disoriented. I stretched and yawned, hissing at the burn when the cut on my lip re-opened. In an instant, everything came back to me—the dinner—the tantrum—Durant hitting me. I panicked and began looking around, searching the corners to see where he was hiding, but he was nowhere to be found. Knowing I was alone, caused a monstrous weight to lift from my chest. His madness was becoming more apparent with each visit and if I didn't find a way out of here soon, I was going to die down here.

And then I remembered the bobby pin I'd stashed.

I took it out from under the mattress and began working on my left wrist. The harder I tried, the more frustrated I became. When I dropped the bobby pin for the hundredth time, I beat my hands against my leg as I let my frustrated tears flow. It was pointless. I had no clue what I was doing. Even if by some twist of good luck, I was able to get the locks on my wrists and ankles open, I still couldn't maneuver the bobby pin into the critical one at the back of my neck. And if I couldn't get my collar off, I wasn't going anywhere. Finally, I gave up and hid the bobby pin to try again later.

As I stewed in frustration, I thought about all the opportunities I'd wasted when I had resources at my disposal. Ranger or any one of his men would have taught me how to pick a lock if I'd been smart enough to ask. Now it was too late. If I ever got out of here, that's the first thing I'd learn—that and self-defense.

On that thought, I got up and did my exercises.

* * *

A loud bang startled me awake. I sucked in a breath, and clutched the blanket to my chest, frantically looking around to see where it came from. I was surprised to find him standing over me, clenching his fists at his side, breathing hard. His suit was gone, replaced with jeans and a flannel shirt, telling me that another day had gone by. I scurried to throw the blanket off and sit up. He narrowed his eyes at me, and then turned to walk to the center of the room. I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it looked like that moment had finally arrived.

"Come here!"

I knew better than to disobey. I breathed in deep for courage and stood on shaking legs, forcing myself to take a step. By the time I reached him, his rage had cooled, and he was now smiling, eyes dancing with mischief. His rapid mood swings left me feeling uncertain.

He was staring at me as if he knew a secret. I swallowed hard and flinched away when he reached his hand out. He pulled back for a second and I thought he might leave me alone, but he started forward again until his fingers found my bare nipples. He traced circles around them, and against my will they hardened into peaks. He gave me a proud smile as if my body was drawn to his touch. It made the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

Before I had time to back away, he gripped my hips, pressing his crotch against mine. Instead of feeling hardness through his jeans there was the same softness as yesterday when he forced me to touch him. He ground his hips against me harder. I held myself rigid not wanting to do anything to make him think I was enjoying this. One would think I was made of plastic for all the reaction I gave him. When he realized nothing was happening below his belt, his face turned dark red and he huffed out a frustrated breath. He pulled his hips away and grabbed my hand, and placed it over his penis, making me rub him through his pants. Yesterday I resisted and it cost me dearly yet changed nothing. He was going to do what he wanted, and I couldn't stop him. That was made painfully clear to me.

He persisted for a couple minutes, becoming almost frantic in his efforts, but without a reaction from me, he gave up. His mouth twisted in defeat and maybe… regret? He turned away and walked to the other end of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists as if he were walking off his anger. When he came back, he stood inches from my face and snarled with contempt. "I thought you were **'The One'**, but you're not."

My eyes widened and I gulped, trying to swallow the knot lodged in my throat. The tortured look on his face scared the hell of me. He turned away, dismissing me as if I didn't matter anymore. When he put his hand around the edge of the curtain, I had to hug myself to control the shaking. I'd been curious about what the curtain hid, my imagination concocting images of women chained up in cages, or jars of body parts, or possibly a shrine with naked images of women being mutilated, but now it was suddenly real, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"I didn't want it to be this way." He lowered his head, slowly shaking it back and forth, crestfallen. "I had hoped you would be the one to make everything right." He inhaled deeply through his nose and yanked the curtain open with a flourish.

I sucked in a breath, mouth gaped open, hand over my chest, frozen in horror. In that split second, my life changed forever.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: This chapter contains descriptions that some might find upsetting. You may message me with any questions. **

**CHAPTER 6**

**If It Had Been a Snake, It Would Have Bitten Me**

I was rooted to the spot, unable to breathe as the room spun around me. Time literally stood still while I tried to wrap my mind around what I was seeing. It was too horrendous. It couldn't possibly be real. That rancid smell that I could never identify, I knew what it was from now. Right in front of me were eight dead women in varying stages of decomposition displayed in glass cases, as if they were dolls in a collection.

He was pacing in front of them with a proud gleam in his eyes, smiling lovingly as he paused in front of each case, reaching out to gently caress the glass as he passed by. I didn't know what to do… what to say. I frantically looked around for someone to help me, but there was only him.

After he finished giving each woman his attention, he turned back to me, cocked his head in curiosity, waiting for me to say or do something. Bitter saliva flooded my mouth and I knew I was going to be sick. "I'd like to introduce you to my wives," he said, his voice laced with pride as he made a sweeping motion with his hand to the encased women, "and your new sisters." I quickly brought my hand up, clamping it over my lips to keep from vomiting, but I wasn't fast enough. It erupted from my mouth, running down my chin, landing on my stomach and feet. I had to get away. I stepped back once… twice… three times until my collar wouldn't let me go any further and I fell to my knees. I closed my eyes against the vile image, hoping the scene would change, but when I reopened them, the rotting dead women were still there.

I heard his footsteps quickly approaching and lifted my head off the concrete floor, vomit still clinging to my chin and chest. His upper lip was curled in disgust. "This is how you present yourself to my wives?" He jerked his arm toward the women. "You embarrass me with your ill manners and bring dishonor on yourself and me! How do you think that makes them feel?"

"I'm sorry… my stomach… I'm not feeling well." I sounded horse as the words spilled from my mouth.

"I thought you were made of stronger stock." He looked down his nose at me and shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You're here now and you'll have to learn to make the best of things. Now, let us begin." He held both his arms out, commanding me to get up. I frantically shook my head back and forth as tears began to flow. He was going to kill me. He was going to murder me and put me in one of those cases just like the others. He growled low in his throat and I knew I was only prolonging the inevitable, making him more angry.

I didn't have a choice. He'd pull me up by my hair if I didn't get up on my own. I slowly stood and tried to take a step, but my feet seemed glued to the floor. His nostril's flared and I heard him inhale deeply, letting me know his patience was coming to an end… much like me.

I didn't know it at the time, but I must have been crying because I could feel wetness dropping onto my chest and my nose was stuffed up. I tried to lift my foot again, managing to take one hesitant step at a time, but before I got within his reach, I stopped and shook my head, hands held out in front of me to ward him off as I pleaded with him. "Please. You don't have to do this. I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me."

He was so quick I didn't even see him move. One second he was eyeing me with irritation and the next he was gripping my wrist, yanking me flush with his body. My neck snapped backward from being pulled further than my collar would allow, and I could feel the blood rushing to my face as my airway was cut off. I tried to scream but I couldn't get any noise past the constriction. I hit and clawed at his forearm trying to relieve the pressure. Instead of letting me go, he watched me struggle with this creepy smile on his face. And just when I thought I was going to pass out, he let me go.

Without his support, I fell back to the ground on my knees, head bent over, inhaling and exhaling great gulps of air. He waited patiently until my breathing slowed to a regular rhythm and then grabbed the chain attached to my neck, pulling me up. I quickly got my feet under me, helpless for what he was going to do next.

"Pay attention because I don't like repeating myself. Each day you will respectfully greet my wives and share the stories of how we fell in love. After today, any mistakes will have consequences. Are we clear?"

My eyes widened. Consequences? What kind of consequences? I was so far from understanding it was laughable. If he'd been an alien from another planet, I'd have had a better time understanding. I let out a whimper and nodded, grimacing as my throat burned. He stepped closer, forcing me to crane my neck up to see his face. "Speak when I ask you a question!" My whole body jumped at his harsh tone.

"Yes!" I managed to choke the word through my swollen throat and then I started to cry harder. I knew it was the correct answer—the only acceptable answer—but I didn't know what I was agreeing to, and that scared the hell out of me. Satisfied, his anger receded and he unlocked the chain connected to my collar, leaving it dangling near the ground. I gently massaged my sore neck, rotating it to see how badly damaged it was. Now that my neck was free, I thought about making a run for it. I turned my eyes to the door, irrationally thinking it might be standing open.

It wasn't. But even if it had been, I was still shackled at the wrists and ankles. I wouldn't have gotten far.

He ran his palm over his belt buckle. "I will be generous today, but starting tomorrow, when you recite our love stories, you will receive a lash for every mistake you make." A thin sheen of sweat coated my body as I looked at the brown leather belt. I'd never been whipped in my life and wasn't looking forward to it now.

He focused on the women as he prepared to tell me their stories and I had no choice but to do the same. My stomach heaved as I got my first good look at them. What skin they had left, was rotten and clinging to their bones, leaving them looking like shrunken carcasses of their former selves and they were each wearing frilly, vintage style dresses in different colors, much like the red one he'd made me wear yesterday. For the first time, I could see how he made them appear as if they were standing on their own. Thin wires were secured under their armpits and at their wrists running to the tops of their cases, holding them in an upright position as if they were marionette dolls. Every one of them also had brown curly hair that had once been meticulously arranged but was now coming loose from the pins, causing the curls to droop and in some places big chunks were completely missing from their skull. Even though their eyes had long ago degraded, leaving them with large, gaping holes, I could only assume they'd all been blue, like mine.

He grabbed my arm, dragging me closer to the woman in the far-left corner. Whoever she was, I could tell she'd been here the longest because she appeared to be in worse shape than the rest. There were only a few scraps of her skin left clinging to her graying bones and the once vibrant yellow dress she was wearing was faded and wilted. I couldn't bear to look at her anymore. I turned my head to the side and tried not to be sick when I saw him gazing into what was left of the dead woman's eyes and smiling lovingly.

As if he felt my stare, he turned to me, his eyes boring into mine, imparting the dangerous significance of his next words. "As you can probably guess, this is my first wife. Her name is Jenny Pucket. She's also the youngest—only sixteen when we met, and I was twenty-one. It was hot that day, June 8, 2005, to be exact. I was traveling back from a funeral, if you can believe that. My dad's only brother had a heart attack and since he was my last living relative, I wanted to pay my respects. I hadn't intended on stopping at the Dairy Queen, but Emmie wanted a Cotton Candy Blizzard and I can never say no to her." He gave me a crooked smile and turned back to the woman. "As Jenny took my order, she couldn't help flirting with me, telling me the Cotton Candy Blizzard was also her favorite treat." He nodded his head matter of fact. "That's how Emmie knew she was 'The One.'"

I'd never known anyone that could turn their emotions on and off so quickly. He went from extreme rage to barely controlled tolerance to reminiscing about what sounded like a sick fairy tale love story. He was watching me carefully, and I tried not to give away my true feelings.

"I waited in the parking lot until she got off work and followed her as she walked down a country dirt lane. When I rolled down the window and asked if she needed a ride home, she didn't even hesitate; she got right in my car." He shook his head at her naiveté. "A few sips from my fountain drink and she was out like a light."

He glanced back at Jenny, giving her a lop-sided smile of regret. "We were blissfully in love for sixteen long months. She helped me make this place a home and I thought she was going to be my one and only, but it didn't quite work out that way." He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, you win some you lose some. "When I finally saw her true feelings, I had no choice but to stop feeding her." His eyes brightened. "Now, she can stay with me forever."

His delusions knew no end. He actually thought he was in love with these women and that they loved him back. I turned back to Jenny, seeing her in a new light. She was just a young girl with the whole world at her feet—and then one day it was gone. I was sixteen once and had the world at my feet, too. I dreamt of being a professional dancer, but like Jenny, a dangerous man came into my life and changed everything. I knew all too well the horrors that lurked around corners, hiding in places you didn't expect and in people you didn't expect. What happened to me wasn't the same as the heinous acts done to poor Jenny, but they were perpetrated by a similar black hearted creature—a man with no regard for anything except what **he** wanted. I only lost a part of myself that long-ago day, but Jenny lost her life.

Interrupting my commiseration with Jenny, he stepped to his right, in front of a woman wearing a deep purple dress and began telling me of his next wife—or victim. "Not long after Jenny took her rest, I met my second wife, Sharon Richardson." He looked Sharon's body up and down, giving her a flirty smile as if he was unaware she was rotting away. His hold on reality was slipping dramatically. I wondered what would happen to me when he completely lost it.

"Sharon is eighteen and I was twenty-three when we met. That was May 16, 2007. I was passing through Durham, North Carolina when I stopped at a local park to eat my drive thru burgers. She was sitting at a picnic table, eating lunch before heading back across the street to the dry cleaners where she worked. I listened to her complain about how tough her job was and her jerk of a boss. Many times, she told me how happy she was that I took her away from all that." He nodded his head, fully convinced he'd done her a favor. "We lived happily for twenty months before she took her rest."

My head flooded with dizziness. Twenty months? That's almost two years. I can't live here for two years before he… before he puts me in a case like he did them.

His face scrunched up in disgust as he begrudgingly stepped in front of the third glass case. The woman trapped inside was wearing a tangerine colored dress and her face looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to it. One of her eye sockets was smashed and her lower jawbone was completely broken in two and hanging a little crooked. She was also missing several teeth in the front of her mouth. An icy shiver went down my spine and I vowed to do whatever it took—to say whatever I had to—in order to make it out of here alive.

While he was breathing heavily and sneering at the poor woman, most likely reliving the horrible moment he ended her life, I took an inconspicuous step away from him. That small movement must have brought him back into the present, but he didn't turn away from her, he continued looking at her with contempt, and said, "This is Ashley Allen. She's nineteen and I was twenty-five when we met on the Butler University campus in Indianapolis. That was October 11, 2009. I was there to meet a research assistant from the Chemistry department to buy Nitrogen gas for these." He pointed to the glass cases. "I told the man I work as a museum curator, preserving antique costumes from some of the most important films of our time. I told the same thing to the man who makes these hermitically sealed glass cases. It wasn't until after Sharon took her rest that I figured out I could better preserve the beauty of my wives by replacing the oxygen inside the cases with nitrogen. But Ashley didn't deserve to be the first one to receive the new technique."

He turned to make sure I was listening. When he found me staring open mouthed at him, he continued. "I have to admit, I fell under Ashley's spell after watching her interact with her fellow nursing classmates as they ate lunch in the cafeteria. Her laugh was infectious. Emmie and I were both convinced she was 'the one', but we were so blinded by her outer beauty that we couldn't see the whore she is."

Whore? That seemed a bit harsh. What had she done to make him think that and how could I avoid giving him the same impression of me?

"In the beginning, Ashley and I were happy together, but after she'd been with me for three months, I noticed her stomach getting larger." He snarled and rubbed his hand over his chest as if he could still feel his pain. "Her betrayal broke my heart. Knowing that she let another man touch her—impregnate her—was too much to accept. I admit, I lost my temper… but she had to learn." He moved his jaw from side to side, staring at me, daring me to contradict him. "After I hit her the first time… I couldn't stop."

My heart raced as I tried to drag in air. She'd been pregnant when he abducted her? I was fuming with hatred for this monster that not only had the gall to kill innocent women, but a helpless little baby.

"Her betrayal almost destroyed me," he beat his fist against his chest and shouted as if he was the offended party. It took him a few minutes to calm down, and when he did, he stepped in front of his fourth victim, completely wiping Ashely from his mind as he plastered a smile of longing on his face. "I thought Ashley had ruined me, but a couple weeks later, on February 2, 2010, I met my beloved, Andrea King, at the Wal-Mart in Detroit. She's twenty-one and I was twenty-six when we fell in love."

Andrea's dress was navy blue and she was in a little better condition than the other three women he'd introduced. She still had most of her skin, but it had turned dark brown, like brittle leather, and looked shrink wrapped over her bones. The truly odd thing about Andrea was that she appeared to be smiling in her glass coffin. It was off putting.

"I'd given up on love," he started speaking again, "but there she was offering to ring up my purchases—so friendly and happy." He smiled wistfully, and touched the glass covering her face. "Andrea and I lived together as man and wife the longest—two-and-a-half years. We were truly happy together." His smile was proud at first and then turned pensive, as if he was saddened by a particular memory. "In honor of her love and faithfulness, she was finally granted her rest."

He tilted his head to the side as if listening to the poor woman speak. A moment later, he swung his head to me, and barked out a laugh. My eyes widened and I thought I was going to throw up again. He gave my body a thorough perusal, and smiled before he said, "Andrea says you're pretty."

My mouth was bone dry. Mute. All I could do was blink and stare. His jaw clenched and his eyebrows rose expectantly. "You're being rude," he warned.

I knew I had to speak, but what was I going to say? I was having difficulty thinking. Up was down. In was out. Everything was twisted. Wrong.

"Andrea's feelings are sensitive," he warned, his voice going an octave deeper. "You better not make her cry."

I cleared my throat and focused my eyes on her leathery face. "Th… thank you, Andrea."

He stepped closer to me… and I took a step back. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "She graciously gives you a compliment and you don't even inquire about her health?" His head swung back toward Andrea as if she'd said something to catch his attention. "I'm sure she likes you," he said to her and waited… listening. "Whining isn't attractive," he warned her and then his eyebrows rose in irritation. "I'm not going to listen to you put yourself down. You are just as beautiful as the others." He sighed but paused to listen again. "Stephanie isn't ready to join you." He was silent again while he listened. "There'll be plenty of time for that, later." His smile split his face as he listened one final time. "I know. I love you too." He blew her a kiss and stepped to the right, in front of his fifth wife, as if he hadn't just been carrying on a conversation with a dead woman.

I was shaking so badly I could barely stand.

He finally tore his eyes off Andrea and stepped in front of the fifth woman. She was wearing a lavender dress that had once been worthy of a ballroom. "This is Karen Jenkins," he said. "She's twenty-four and I was twenty-nine when we fell in love. That was May 6, 2013. We were together twenty months before she took her rest." He turned his scrutiny on me once again. "I hope you're listening to everything I say, including dates because there _will_ be a test," he said flippantly, then laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world to be talking about the gratuitous deaths of eight innocent women—and a baby.

It took every bit of will power not to spit on him. These women didn't deserve to have him gaping at them for eternity.

Finally, he stopped laughing and continued telling me how he abducted Karen. "I met her when I ordered a milkshake at the traveling carnival she worked for." He paused with a smile on his face while he reminisced. "I waited around all week and then when they were getting packed up to head to a new venue, I made my move. Much like you, no one reported her missing either." He smirked. "I guess she wasn't a big loss for them." He leaned toward me, cupping his hand around his mouth and whispering loud enough for me to hear. "Don't tell her I said this, but she's not very bright." He turned back to Karen, smiling at how clever he was being. "But her smile more than makes up for it, don't you think?"

The poor woman wasn't smiling. Her jaw was hanging open, frozen in death.

He didn't bother waiting for an answer as he moved in front of the sixth woman. She was wearing a powder blue dress and stood a little taller than the others. "This is Donna Morgan," he said. "She's twenty-four and I was thirty-one when we fell in love, June 14, 2015, in Lynchburg, Virginia. She was making her living selling ice cream from a truck down by the public boat dock—not very safe if you ask me." He tilted his head to the side in remembrance. "I was camping nearby and when she took off on a hike around the lake, I made my move. She was with me for fifteen months before she took her rest."

The seventh woman was wearing a bubble gum pink dress. He moved in front of her and said, "This is Kelly Butler. She's twenty-five and I was thirty-three when we fell in love. That was February 11, 2017, in Dayton, Ohio. She taught second grade to a bunch of snot nosed brats that had no respect for her, but I took her away from that life and tried to give her a better one with me." He looked me in the eye to make sure I grasped his warning. "Kelly didn't appreciate all the sacrifices I made for her and had to take her rest after only seven months together."

I held his eyes as long as I could before I had to glance away. I got his message loud and clear—cooperate or there would be consequences.

His final victim wasn't as deteriorated as the others were. In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say she'd only been dead for a few months. Most of her hair was still intact and the teal dress she wore was still vibrant with color. "This is Melissa Barnes," he said. "She's twenty-eight and I was thirty-four when we fell in love, January 15, 2018, in Hartford, Connecticut. Melissa was a 'Dessert Creation Associate.'" He used air quotes when he said her job title and then bent over laughing, hitting his knee with his palm. After he wore himself out, he straightened, letting his lip curl in distaste. "As our courtship progressed, I found out she'd been divorced. If Emmie and I had known she'd given herself to another man, we wouldn't have mistaken her for 'The One'. That's why she had to take her rest after only eight months."

I was reeling from his comment on divorce. If he found out I'd been married before, I was dead.

"Why?" My eyes widened in shock. I hadn't meant for the word to slip out.

"Why what?" He tilted his head to the side, genuinely curious.

Now that I'd asked, I had to finish. "Why did you kill all these women?"

He pulled his lips tightly together, his face slowly turning red as if he was holding in laughter and was going to combust any moment. I moved my foot back, instinctually preparing to run. Where? I don't know. Instead of lashing out at me, he belted out a laugh so loud it bounced off the block walls, hitting me with the force of his madness. I gulped and watched him anxiously. He was a wildcard. Unpredictable. Heartstoppingly insane. And I was directly in his path.

When he finally regained control of himself, he looked at me as if I was a simpleton, and said, "Dead? They're not dead."

I stood in the center of the room, in a stupor. When I snapped out of it, he was gone, and the chain was reattached to my collar. I didn't know what to do. The women were staring at me… watching my every move. Why couldn't he have at least closed the curtain?

I looked over at the bed. It seemed so far away. Sitting on it was a paper bag and a bottle of water. I wanted a drink so bad, but I was frozen in fear. It was irrational. The women were dead. They couldn't hurt me and yet I was terrified to move an inch. I looked down at my hand, hanging by my side and imagined Ranger standing beside me, holding it and saying, "You can do this. I'm proud of you, Babe."

It was just what I needed to hear. Slowly, I slid my feet across the concrete, inches at a time until I was able to climb on my bed with my back against the wall and my knees drawn to my chest. I closed my eyes and convinced myself this was all a nightmare and that I was going to wake up any minute.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**You Don't Know What You're Missing**

Meanwhile, back in Trenton, Tank and the rest of the Rangemen were reaching the end of their rope. For the last month, they'd bent over backwards trying to accommodate their newest wealthy client, Preston Kingsley, who was under the impression he truly was royalty. Ranger had made it clear he wanted the client well taken care of and since he would be working from the Miami office until after the New Year, it was up to Tank and the rest of the Rangemen to make sure the clients every wish was granted. This job was going to net Rangeman a lot of money and if the client was pleased, there would be an even more lucrative contract in the future, but Preston Kingsley had been difficult to work with—changing his mind every few minutes—demanding things be redone as if he knew better than the elite security company he'd hired.

Four days after Ranger had arrived in Miami, he received an irate phone call from Kingsley, on Christmas day, no less. As if he was Mr. Scrooge himself, Kingsley threatened to sue Ranger, his company, and everyone affiliated with the company unless the security system designer personally came to stay on site for the remainder of the installation. It went against Ranger's better judgement to send Hector into the field under those conditions, but he didn't have a choice. Kingsley's name held a lot of weight in the wealthy sector and Ranger couldn't afford to leave the client dissatisfied. He gave Tank the order to send Hector to Philadelphia. That decision made all the Rangemen uneasy, especially Hector. The problem was obvious. Hector. Rich asshole. You do the math.

This is all to explain how Hector had come to be stuck at the rich man's sprawling estate for the last six days. During that time, Hector had shown great restraint. Only a few times, had his finger found its way to his gun trigger. Each time, he found the restraint not to squeeze it—barely—but now that the installation was complete, he pointed his truck North, eager to get the hell out of there. If he'd had to stay one more day, he would have cut the gilipollas titulado (entitled asshole).

As Hector drove, he thought back to when Stephanie had first piqued his interest. It was during the time the Somali national known as Razzle Dazzle was chasing her, trying to get his hands on the picture she'd inadvertently brought back from Hawaii. He grinned as he remembered hacking into the FBI's cameras to watch her ruthlessly attacking the secret operative in the feds parking garage. Razzle Dazzle had come at her with a ten-inch military grade knife and she'd gone crazy on his ass. The knife was knocked out of his hands and they both went for it, but she grabbed it first and sliced a gash in his leg that had him howling. But what really got Hector's attention was how she didn't immediately run away screaming after the skirmish. She stood above his prone body, kicking him over and over. Her skill might have lacked technique, but her fearlessness was something to behold. There was no doubt about it; his Angelita was a spitfire.

Outside of his Rangeman family… and Stephanie, Hector only had his Mamá and a few distant cousins left. All the rest were still in Mexico or dead from their affiliation with the _'Bloods.'_ It was the primary reason he got out when he did. It hadn't been easy, but with the help of some connected friends, he'd been able to sever most of his ties to his old way of life.

His mouth curved into a slight smile, recalling with fondness the conversation that solidified Stephanie as part of his family. "You know you're one of the scariest men I know, right?" she asked with a lop-sided grin, biting her lip with more than a little trepidation.

He appreciated her honesty and tried not to laugh as he gave her one of his patented, wicked smiles that he'd perfected years ago. But he couldn't resist yanking her chain a little. "Why, am I ugly?" As soon as the words escaped his lips, she started laughing uncontrollably and then as if realizing what she was doing, her eyes grew wide and she suddenly slapped her hand over her mouth. He saw the horror registered on her innocent face. Most people would have instantly backtracked, stumbling over words as they tried to recover before he unleashed his lethal temper, but not Stephanie.

Instead of avoiding the situation, she looked him firmly in the eyes and said, "No, you're a badass hottie; causing people everywhere to quake in their boots, even Ranger treats you with respect." He hadn't expected her to be so honest. Her words caused his insides to warm and he waited to see what else she'd say. "I wish I could be like that—no more getting hurt—or rolling in garbage." She smiled and did this weird thing with her eyes that had him thinking about laughing. "Just one squinty eyed look from me and my skips would hold their arms out, waiting for me to cuff them." She laughed and dusted her hands against each other. "Easy peasy."

Her confession made his connection to her stronger and for the first time in a long time, he wanted to let someone into his dark world so that he wasn't all alone. It was time to make a confession of his own. "As long as I am around, no one will ever hurt you."

She lowered her eyes, humbled by his intensity. "Why do you care what happens to me?"

Time for words was over. They weren't his strong suit anyway. He stepped closer, bringing her into the fold of his arms where he could speak without looking into her eyes. "You remind me of my cousin, Lupita. She was killed many years ago." He leaned back and pointed to one of two tear shaped tattoos under his eye. "I have redeemed her honor." He hoped admitting to murder didn't horrify her, but he only saw understanding in her eyes. He pulled her close again. "I like you. You have a good heart, but people take advantage of you. When you get knocked down, you get back up." He quirked his eyebrow, giving her a flirtatious smirk. "If only I did not like men."

She slugged him lightly on his bicep, seeming a little overcome by his praise and unsure how to respond.

"People fear me. They follow my orders, but I do not let them become my friends," he said and then placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her gaze with his. "You are more than my friend—you are mi familia (my family)." She blinked and swallowed hard, moved by his heavy declaration.

Oncoming headlights nearly blinded him, pulling him back into the present. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was an hour before midnight, and he was eager to get to Stephanie's apartment in time to ring in the New Year with her. He knew that Ranger and the cop were away, and she would be all by herself. The thought made him increase his speed. If he hurried, he could make it there in time to watch the ball drop with her, but he needed to be careful driving through the ice and snow-covered roads—especially with all the drunk drivers out tonight.

He turned up the volume on the radio. The forecaster was giving an update on the big snowstorm that had come through a few days ago, dumping nearly a foot of snow on Trenton. It had been a couple days since he'd texted Stephanie to check on her, but when she didn't text back, he figured she'd gone to stay with her family and was busy. Most people had gathered together to ride out the storm. He was taking a gamble that she'd even be at her apartment.

A half an hour later, he pulled into her lot, and was relieved to find her Jeep still covered in snow as if she'd safely tucked herself in for the duration. He went up and knocked on her apartment door. He could pick her locks in three seconds flat, but he knew she valued her privacy and he respected her boundaries.

It was taking her longer than usual to answer. He smiled thinking she'd fallen asleep in front of the TV. He knocked again, but with each passing minute, he got more anxious. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and picked her locks. All the lights were off and there was a stagnant smell in the air. "Angelita." He called out to her, and still no answer. He checked all the rooms, but there was no sign of her, and no indication of a struggle.

The bed was—as usual—unmade. Stephanie didn't waste time on housekeeping. How in the world the cop thought she'd make a good housewife was an indication of his intelligence level. Simply put—in Hector's opinion—Morelli couldn't see past her sexual assets to fully examine the fact that she would make a horrible stay at home mother. It wasn't in her nature. She would be miserable within a year and divorced within two—Hector knew this.

On a more thorough search, he noticed her purse and cell phone were missing. His eyes landed on her hamster's cage. Rex was lying on the pine shavings, unmoving. Hector's heart rate accelerated as he rushed over. Upon closer inspection, he could see the little critters' chest barely moving. He did a quick survey of the contents of the cage. There was no visible food, and barely any water. Until now, he'd been trying to convince himself that she was safely ensconced at her parents or maybe Morelli had come back from his assignment early. But finding Rex in this condition was cause for concern. Steph took better care of him than she did herself. That worried feeling in his gut was quickly turning to fear.

He tapped Rex's little body and was relieved when he stirred. He quickly refilled his food and water and nudged him to eat. At first, he struggled, and then began eating like he was starving. If it hadn't been for the larger habitat with the automatic water and food dispenser she'd gotten him for Christmas, he'd have died. Hector didn't like anything he was seeing.

He was suddenly assaulted with images of her dead body lying in the parking lot covered in snow or passed out inside her car. He ran out of her apartment, down the stairs and out into the lot. The Jeep's tires were mired in icy slush, indicating it hadn't been moved since the snowstorm and there were no tracks in the snow other than the ones he was making. He circled the Jeep, using the flashlight on his phone to search for signs of her body buried under the snow, but didn't see anything.

He shined the light inside the Jeep, noting her purse and several shopping bags lying on the passenger seat and the keys still in the ignition. Thinking her phone was in her purse, he was getting ready to break the window to get in when he decided to try the door first. It was unlocked. He grabbed her purse, rummaged inside to locate her cell. It was dead. He found her car charger in the console and plugged it in, then turned on the engine to power it. While it charged enough for him to see her call log, he shut the door and paced back and forth, ignoring the bitter cold weather.

The door of her building creaked and Hector turned toward the sound. Stephanie's Super emerged carrying a bag of trash. He had his shoulders hunched and his head down against the chilly wind. As soon as Dillon saw Hector, he stopped in his tracks and dropped the garbage bag, his eyes darting left and right, trying to decide which way to run. Hector had neither the time nor the inclination to soothe the man's nerves. He walked right up to him, invading his space, and asked, "When was the last time you saw Stephanie Plum?"

Dillon stumbled backward, eyes widening and then crinkling in confusion. "Um," he stuttered, thinking back. "I… I think it was the morning after Christmas." He nodded his head. "Yeah, that's right. She was heading out early to go shopping."

"You haven't seen her since then?"

Dillon swallowed, and rapidly shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her at all. Is she okay?" Hector studied the man's facial expressions and body language for signs of deceit. He found none. He went back over to the Jeep, effectively dismissing him. Dillon picked up the bag and threw it in the dumpster. He was hesitant to draw Hector's attention back to him, but Stephanie was his friend and he wanted to offer his help. "Is there anything I can do?" he hollered.

Hector ignored him and opened her car door, hoping the phone had charged enough. He powered on the phone and started scrolling through the call log. There were several incoming calls from her parents, Mary Lou, Connie, and Lula, but the last outgoing call was to her mother six days ago. His heart sank, knowing she hadn't used her phone in so long. But maybe that was because she didn't need it. Maybe she'd joined Ranger in Miami. For a second, he was filled with hope, but it quickly died when he remembered how he found Rex. There was no way she'd leave him in that condition and go off to Miami, and especially not without her purse and phone.

He was still holding on to the hope that she was at her parents but didn't want to needlessly worry them in case she wasn't. At least not until he'd exhausted all other possibilities. He thought about all the places she'd go and with whom. The cop was the most logical choice. Maybe his assignment had ended early and she was at his house. He flipped through her phone to get Morelli's number and used his own to place the call. After four rings, an irritated voice barked through the speaker. "Morelli."

"Hector Sanchez," he said, barely able to conceal his worry. Small talk wasn't necessary. Hector only needed to know one thing. "Is Stephanie with you?"

As soon as Morelli heard Stephanie's name, the acid in his stomach started churning. It happened every time she got into trouble and unfortunately for him, it was a lot. He put his hand over the sharp sting under his sternum, hoping the corrosive liquid wasn't dissolving the lining of his belly as he spoke. "I'm out of town right now. I haven't heard from her all week."

Hector's heart beat faster, and he blew out a frustrated breath, he was tough fucker, but he wasn't immune to fear. He checked his unproductive emotions and gave Morelli the low down.

Joe sucked in a breath as the line went silent. "Let me make some calls." He hung up without another word.

The anger Hector had been holding at bay began bubbling to the surface. Where the fuck was she? He knew in his gut Morelli wasn't going to call back with good news. He checked the time on his phone; it was fifteen minutes until midnight. While he was looking at his phone, it rang.

"Have you found her?" Morelli barked as soon as Hector answered.

"No."

Joe squeezed his eyes shut as his heart sank even further. "Here's what I know. Mary Lou and Stephanie went shopping the morning of the 26th. They separated at the entrance to Macy's at 1 pm. She called her mother on the way home and that's the last anyone's seen or talked to her." Everything he said verified what Hector already knew in his gut. "I called TPD. They're sending a Crime Scene Unit to go over her apartment and Jeep. I'm on my way."

There was still a chance she could be with Ranger, but he wasn't going to make that call until he talked to Tank.

Tank and Lula were sitting on her couch preparing to watch the ball drop on TV when Hector called. "Speak!" Tank said.

"Stephanie's missing."

Tank took his feet off Lula's coffee table and sat forward on the couch, listening as Hector told him what he knew. "Fuck!" he swore and turned to Lula. "Baby? When was the last time you talked to Stephanie?"

"I've left her a couple messages, but we haven't talked since we went shopping with Mary Lou the day after Christmas," she told him.

That bad feeling in Tank's gut just got worse. "You haven't seen her at all since then?"

Her eyes widened in concern as she shook her head. "You've been keeping me busy in the bedroom while the Bond's office has been closed."

Since Ranger's last words to him before he left for Miami was to keep an eye on Stephanie, Tank was almost certain she wasn't with him. "Talk to her neighbors and friends," he told Hector. "See if anyone saw anything. Wake up the whole damn building! I'm on my way."

As soon as he disconnected, Lula stood up and handed him his coat. "What's going on? Did something happen to my girl?"

"We don't know," he said quietly, already preoccupied with the next step in the search. "I'm going to her apartment to see what I can find out."

"What can I do to help?"

"I need to establish a timeline," Tank explained. "Call her friends and get me names of everyone who saw or talked to her since Christmas. Also, get a list of her skips from Connie and think about places she might have gone."

"I got this, Tankie. I'll find out everything I can."

"Thanks, baby." He gave her one last squeeze and a kiss on the lips. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

As Tank drove to Stephanie's apartment, he called Lester and initiated 'The Cobalt Plan'. Ranger had come up with the plan over a year ago and made it mandatory that every employee be trained on what to do. It might have been premature to activate the policy, but in Tanks mind, it was better to be safe than sorry. If they did nothing and she was out there hurt or dying… well then, he and all his men were dead too.

He didn't know all the details of Ranger and Stephanie's relationship, but he did know that she was safer when she was an actual employee of Rangeman. He didn't understand why Ranger wouldn't bring her into the fold permanently. Her occasional part time work always helped them out. There was simply no better person to do the searches than her. She saw things and made connections the Rangemen didn't or couldn't. Tank had his suspicions why Ranger kept her at arm's length, and it was the first and only instance that made Tank question Ranger's intelligence. He had no problem following the man blindly into war or anywhere else for that matter, but this push and pull between Ranger and Stephanie was almost juvenile.

According to 'The Cobalt Plan', Ranger was to be notified immediately and Tank was scared shitless at the thought. Ranger had made it clear that Stephanie was always to be protected. If she'd been gone for six days, make that almost seven days since it was nearing midnight, without anyone knowing, all hell was going to break loose when Ranger found out. Tank wasn't sure life would be worth living under those conditions. He'd been by Ranger's side during the time Stiva had her locked away and he saw the fear in the man's eyes while he held the old lady from the property office at gun point until she told him all the properties Stiva owned. There wasn't a mountain he wouldn't move for her and in his absence, Ranger expected the same from his men.

As soon as Tank pulled into Stephanie's lot, he spotted Hector waiting in front of her Jeep. To the untrained eye, he appeared controlled, but Tank could see he was barely keeping it together. Just as he stepped out of the SUV, Hector started pointing at the snow around her Jeep, saying, "The only tracks are from me. Chances are she was taken right here in the lot—before the storm hit."

"Did the neighbors see anything?" Tank asked.

Hector shook his head.

Tank couldn't put this off any longer. He scrubbed his hand over his bald head, wiping the sweat away even though it was below freezing outside, and called Ranger.

* * *

Ranger thrust himself into her warm body twice more before grunting out his satisfaction. He rolled onto his back—breathing hard—little beads of sweat running down his temples. He looked over at the woman lying beside him, taking in her traditional Latin beauty and enticingly lush body. They'd had a mutually beneficial, no strings agreement, since he set up Rangeman Miami. As a flight attendant, Salina was able to meet up at various locations across the country, but Miami was her home base, which made it convenient to see her whenever he was in town.

He removed the condom, leaned over to toss it in the wastebasket beside the bed and laid back down. Salina wriggled closer, until she was half on top of him, kissing her way down his stomach, positioning herself between his legs. He was still semi-hard, so he let her have her fun. When she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, he held back a smile and reached out with a gentle hand, tangling his fingers in her hair just as she was about to lean forward, taking him down her throat. He knew exactly what her mouth was capable of. She had an insatiable appetite for sex, much like himself, but he needed a few minutes before he was ready to go another round. Disappointed, she let him slip out of her mouth and rested her chin on his pubic bone, looking up at him with her lower lip sticking out.

She loved how Ranger made her feel about herself. Being able to attract a man like him validated her own beauty and it didn't hurt that he paid the lease for this luxurious apartment along with a healthy monthly allowance. She wasn't ashamed of liking the finer things in life and as long as she made Ranger happy, he would continue subsidizing her lifestyle. It wasn't like she expected him to marry her. He'd made that perfectly clear up front and repeated it every time she'd gotten the least bit clingy. Condom… yes. Ring… no. That's what he always said, but she couldn't help thinking she might be able to change his mind—that one day he'd wake up and realize she was everything he ever wanted and marry her.

Ranger let her pout for a minute before untangling himself from her and sitting up on the side of the bed. He looked over at the bedside table when his phone vibrated for the second time. Even though he was officially off-line, he was never really off the clock. As soon as he picked his phone up, it vibrated again. His entire body went rigid as he read the three texts from Tank. They all said the same thing—911 Cobalt. That was the emergency code for when Stephanie was in serious trouble. He scrolled through his contacts and called Tank.

Tank had been expecting Ranger's call for the last ten minutes and he was getting pissed that he wasn't responding, but when his phone finally rang, his anger dissolved, turning back to dread because of the news he was about to impart. He didn't wait for Ranger to say anything, he simply blurting out, "Boss, Stephanie's missing."

Even with all of Ranger's training, those words struck fear in him like nothing else on this earth could. His vision darkened and for a minute he thought he might be sick. While he was using a breathing technique he'd learned years ago to keep himself calm, Salina crawled up behind him, purring in his ear, running her tongue over the sensitive area, just the way he liked it. "Mmmm, come back to bed," she whispered seductively as her hand snaked its way around to his cock, pumping him. Moments ago, Salina's touch had been arousing and now it was offensive. He flung her hand away and got off the bed.

Tank breathed out an audible sigh of relief. "Never mind, she's with you." He chuckled and then his voice turned icy. "You should have told someone. Hector and I have been worried sick for the last hour."

"What do you mean missing?" Ranger asked as he stuck his leg in his pants.

All the relief Tank felt seconds ago vanished when he realized his mistake. Ranger was with Salina, the gold digger. She was one of a select group of women Ranger had arrangements with. For as long as he'd known him, Ranger had never lacked for female attention. He never even had to make the first move. Women flocked to him while he sat back and decided which one he wanted to take home for the night. As his wingman, Tank had taken home quite a few of Ranger's cast offs.

What he didn't understand was why he kept playing with Stephanie's emotions. He seemed to care for her more than any of the others, but he wouldn't offer her anything resembling a relationship. It made him angry and he wished he'd just leave the poor girl alone. Of course, he couldn't say any of that to his friend, not if he wanted to keep breathing, so he just filled him in on what he knew. "Stephanie wasn't at her apartment when Hector stopped on his way home from the Philly job. No one has seen her since she parted ways with Mary Lou Molnar at Quaker Bridge Mall on the 26th at 1:00 p.m. And no one has talked to her since she called her mother at 1:15 p.m. that same day." Tank checked his watch, confirming the time, it was now after midnight. "That was now seven days ago," he reluctantly admitted.

The pit in Ranger's stomach grew deeper and wider with every word out of Tank's mouth. He was hanging on to one thread of hope, the possibility that she was with Morelli. Before he could ask, Tank forged ahead. "Detective Morelli hasn't seen or heard from her either."

"Pull up her trackers," Ranger ordered as he sat back down on the bed to put on his boots.

"All of her tracker's place her at her apartment." Tank hesitated, dreading what he was about to reveal. "There is also indication she may have had a stalker."

"Explain!" Ranger demanded.

Tank recited what Hector had told him.

Ranger took a deep breath for control and clipped his gun to his belt. Usually, his blood pressure was on an even keel, but right now, he was in the red zone. Of course, she had a stalker, he thought. She attracts them like bees to honey. Hell, even he could be considered a stalker the way he kept track of her. "Why am I just now hearing about this?" he barked. "And why in the fuck has it taken this long for someone to realize she was missing?"

Tank's complexion fought its natural color, doing its best to turn an ashy gray. "Stephanie shrugged it off, convincing Hector it was nothing. She even laughed about it when she told Hector that Morelli's dog probably ate her underwear."

"Implement 'The Cobalt Plan'," he said as he headed out of the bedroom, "and get me on a chartered flight straight to Trenton Mercer Airport. Call in every man we have. I don't care what happens to the business; I want her found." Ranger's voice turned menacing when he spoke again. "And Tank, you better have some good news when I get there."

"Copy that." Tank had already implemented the 'The Cobalt Plan,' and he had every available man combing the apartment complex, talking to neighbors, going over her skips, and tracing her movements.

Ranger was moving so fast, Salina had to drape the sheet around her as she scrambled off the bed after him. "Carlos, where are you going?" she yelled at his back. "I thought we were going to ring in the New Year together."

He put his hand on the apartment doorknob and paused, turning back to her even though he didn't want to look at her, not right now. Stephanie was missing and that was all he was thinking about. "There's been an emergency with an employee," he said. "I have to go. I'll call you."

After the apartment door closed firmly behind him, she was filled with fury. She grabbed the first thing she could find, throwing it at the door, splattering the crystal vase all over the marble floor. She couldn't believe he'd left her so abruptly. He'd never done that before. Most times he even lingered as if he didn't want to leave her. And who was the missing woman he was so worried about? She must be important if he was willing to risk his company for her. Rangeman was Carlos' priority, but he always made time for her. Even if all their time was spent in bed.

* * *

Forty-five minutes after receiving Hector's call, Joe pulled into Stephanie's parking lot. He got out of his SUV, shoulders drawn in against the wind, and wearily made his way over to the newly promoted, Detective Eddie Gazarra. "What do you have?"

Eddie was overseeing the Crime Scene Unit as they went over his lifelong friend's Jeep. He was more than a little worried that Stephanie had been missing for so long. Her job had her associating with some bad people. He looked up when Morelli called out, grimacing because he had nothing good to report. "Crime scenes a mess," Gazarra said. "The damn snow has covered any trace evidence on the ground."

"What about her apartment?" Morelli asked while trying to keep a lid on his frustration.

Gazarra shook his head. "No sign of forced entry, but we're collecting prints from there and her Jeep." He motioned to the techs scurrying around. "There's no signs of struggle, but since her purse, phone, and packages were still inside the Jeep, it's my guess this is the abduction site. Most likely, she was stunned to immobilize her. Quick and easy."

Morelli's lips remained tight, trying his best to keep his cop face in place even though he was more worried than he could ever remember. "Did the neighbors hear or see anything?"

"TPD and Rangeman are canvassing the apartment complex and surrounding areas, but so far no one has seen or heard anything."

Screeching tires caught their attention and both men looked up as Frank Plum pulled into the lot. He barely had time to close the door to his cab before he was yelling, "Where's my daughter?" He looked back and forth between Eddie and Morelli.

Morelli put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "We don't know where she is. I can tell you what we know so far, but it's not much."

Frank shrugged Morelli's hand off, breathed in deep, flaring his nostrils, and gave them a stern look telling them they'd better start talking.

Morelli physically regrouped and began from when he first got the call from Hector and ended with what Eddie had just told him.

Frank looked distraught. "Do whatever you have to, just find my little girl."

"I'll find her," Morelli said and then all three men turned to watch as a black SUV sped into the lot. Morelli stiffened as Ranger stepped out, heading straight for Tank, and disappearing inside the apartment building. Fucking Ranger. Should have known he'd show up sooner or later. It wasn't like him to let anything stand between him and playing hero for Stephanie.

* * *

Hector was in Stephanie's apartment coaxing Rex to eat when Ranger and Tank walked in. Ranger stared him down but didn't approach. It was taking all his resolve not to kill Hector for ignoring the signs that Stephanie had a stalker. For now, he pushed those feeling to the backburner. There would be time to deal with him later. Right now, he had to focus on finding Stephanie. He stood in the center of her apartment and let his eyes sweep over the entire space. There were no overt signs that someone had been in here, but he knew it was true. He started in the living room and systematically went over every inch of her apartment, hoping fresh eyes would see something the others had missed. That feeling only intensified as he entered her bedroom. Even though everything appeared the same as always, his gut told him someone had been in here, violating her space. His stomach twisted.

When Ranger came out of the bedroom, Hector was waiting with his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth set in a cruel line. Hector was livid. He'd been standing beside Tank when he'd made the call to Ranger and knew he'd been with another woman while Stephanie was in trouble. His face contorted in pure disgust as he walked up to him, chest to chest, sniffing loudly. "You smell like cheap pussy," he snarled.

Ranger's eyes narrowed slightly. Not many people challenged him, especially openly, but Hector wasn't like many men.

"If you had not gone to Miami to scratch an itch, you would have been here when _Estefanía_ needed you instead of rolling around in whatever puta's bed you just crawled out of."

Ranger held himself frighteningly still, but inside he was vibrating with rage at the audacity of the man. He shot a look at Tank and nearly flinched when his friend pursed his lips and broke eye contact. Tank wasn't going to say anything negative about Ranger, not in someone else's presence, but Ranger saw that he agreed with Hector. He lost some of his anger when he realized this was his fault, and he might never have a chance to make it right. But he wasn't the only one who had blame to shoulder. He focused back on Hector. "You should have come to me immediately with threats of a stalker."

Hector stepped back as if he'd been punched in the gut. He'd been beating himself up over that for the past four hours. Before any blood was shed, Tank intervened. "Playing the blame game isn't helping Stephanie." He looked from one man to the other. "We should head back down and see what they've gotten from the Jeep."

As soon as they exited the building, Morelli was in Ranger's face, shouting. "You track her every move, so tell me where she is."

"All her trackers are here," Ranger said, unaffected by Morelli's outburst of anger.

"Is it true?" Frank looked from Ranger to Hector. "Did my daughter have a stalker?"

"Based on her conversation with Mr. Sanchez," Eddie said, tilting his head in Hector's direction. "We have reason to believe she was being stalked."

"What sort of conversation?" Frank asked Hector, ignoring the tattoos and his fierce demeanor. He didn't pretend to understand Stephanie's knack for befriending oddballs, but Hector seemed like someone that stood up for his friends no matter what the cost.

"Estefanía mentioned that things seemed off in her apartment." He met Franks gaze head on. "She asked if I had moved some items." On the outside, Hector looked as frightening as ever, but on the inside, he was bleeding. It wasn't often he messed up and now that he could see everything from a larger screen, he knew that her questions were red flags that should have caused him to react more proactively.

"What kinds of items?" Frank persisted.

"Such things as lipstick, earrings, a notebook… her computer." Hector lowered his voice and looked away. "And missing underwear."

Frank's face lost all color. This was his worst nightmare.

Ranger listened to the replay for Frank's benefit, rage reigniting under his skin. He didn't think for one minute that Morelli's dog ate her underwear.

"A few times she thought someone might have been in her apartment and messed up her bedding, but she brushed it off and said maybe it was Morelli or even you." Hector nodded toward Ranger.

Eddie quickly took over the conversation before blame could be slung around. "I think it's safe to say that no one here moved her things or took her underwear." He made eye contact with each man. "What we need to do now is process the prints, rule out her friends, and see what we have left. Whoever took her has been playing with her for a while. Coming and going from her apartment unnoticed, leaving no traces of forced entry behind."

Frank's shoulders slumped forward with each word Eddie spoke. "Go home and be with your wife," Eddie said as he nudged Frank toward his cab. "I'll let you know as soon as we know anything."

Frank took a couple steps towards his car before turning around. His face was hard as granite as he looked between Joe and Ranger. "Bring my daughter home."

Ranger stepped forward, looking him in the eyes. "Nothing will stop me from finding her. You have my word." Frank studied him and knew it was the truth. Morelli stepped beside Ranger, nodding his agreement. It gave Frank enough peace to go home to his wife.

"I want men stationed inside her apartment and in the parking lot 24/7," Ranger ordered Tank. "And have the entire Rangeman team meet in conference room A, at 0400, with all reports and witness statements." Ranger turned to Gazarra and Morelli. "You're both welcome to join us."

"We'll be there," Gazarra said. "Steph has a lot of friends in the department. We will find her."

A uniformed officer came out of the building and handed Rex's cage to Morelli. "I need to drop him by Mary Lou's and then I'll be there."

They all stared at the rodent, knowing he was their only witness to Stephanie's stalker, but he wasn't talking.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: This chapter is graphic, and some readers might find the content disturbing. If you have any TRIGGERS at all, please message me before reading so I can warn you without ruining the chapter for others. **

**CHAPTER 8**

**My Word Is My Bond**

The gruesome sight of the women had my stomach twisted into knots. There was no way to maintain an appetite with them staring at me all the time, but I still had to keep up my strength and that meant eating. I'd learned quickly to ration what little food he deemed necessary to give me. Apparently one measly meal a day was all this prisoner needed. But despite my inner turmoil, I managed to force myself to eat the smashed peanut butter sandwich and drink the bottle of water he'd left yesterday.

As I held the bottle up and let the last few drops fall onto my tongue, I heard his keys rattling on the other side of the door. I barely had time to shrug the blanket off my shoulders before the door swung open. A blast of cold air swept into the room and he stopped to shake his head, sending snow flying from his hair. He had a rolled-up newspaper in his hand and gave me a taunting smile as he threw it in my direction. "Seems someone finally noticed you were missing."

It happened so quickly, I barely had time to react. I flinched just as it bounced off the side of my face and landed on the bed. Hungry for information, I grabbed it up, first noticing the picture of me and then the headline. **"Trenton's Own Bombshell Bounty Hunter, Missing."** I checked the date—January 1—and did a quick calculation. "Seven days," I muttered, and let the paper drop to my lap, shoulders sagging. All this time, I thought they'd been searching for me—that any minute Joe or Ranger would burst through the door—but they hadn't missed me at all. No one had.

"Took them long enough, don't you think?"

I looked up into his smirking face, his words cutting me to the quick. His whole body shook with laughter as he watched me crumble. I was so tired of it all. I just wanted to go to sleep. I wasn't even sure I wanted to wake up. While I was wallowing in self-pity, he snatched the paper from my hands, pulled me to the center of the room, and pushed my chest against the pole, locking my arms on the other side. I was stunned—incapable of rational thought. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Each inhale and exhale caused my breasts to rub painfully over the splintered wood.

My eyes were darting all over the place, looking everywhere but at him and the women. It creeped me out how their vacant eyes seemed to follow me, judging me. He came around to the other side of the pole, facing me. "Do you remember your instructions?"

Instructions? I didn't understand what he was talking about. I gave my head a quick shake, bumping my chin on the pole, but I was so scared I barely felt the pain.

"I spent a lot of time yesterday telling you about my wives and how we met. I warned you there would be a test. You should always listen to what I say." He fingered his belt, unbuckling it, and slipping it from the loops. "You will get a lick from this belt for every error you make."

_Was he seriously going to hit me?_ I looked at him like he was was no way I could remember the dates and places of where he met these women after only telling me once. "Please don't do this!" I sobbed.

"There is another option," he said very slowly and with a creepy glint in his eyes.

"What is it?" I nodded quickly, ready to go along with whatever he had in mind. "I'll do anything. Just, please don't hurt me."

He tilted his head to the side, eyes becoming hooded. "You can make love with me."

I gulped and then my heart started racing triple time. I hadn't expected that… I should have… but I hadn't. I stared at him, trying to make my mind and my body agree with his demand, but I couldn't. I just couldn't do it. I wasn't stupid enough to think he was going to let me go if I succumbed to him. I glanced at the women. They had probably fell for the same thing and they didn't make it out of here. They were stuck in those cases while he brought the next woman before them for him to torture. I looked at him with a new understanding.

"Don't look at me like that." Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on my cheek. "Don't you think I'm handsome? Am I not good enough for you?"

I quickly nodded, trying not to anger him further. I wanted to say something to convince him not to do this, but my mind was blank. He stepped behind me, his clothes grazing my back as he looked over my shoulder at the women. "If you're not willing to make love with me yet then you need to prove to me that you are worth another chance. Now, say good morning to my wives."

My mind raced frantically. Half of my attention was on him, wondering what he was doing behind me and the other half was trying to remember the first girls' name. _Jenny? Was that right? Yes, I nodded confidently to myself. That was her name, but the next one… ? Shit, what had he called her?_ He cleared his throat and I knew my time of stalling was over. The only thing I could do was somehow muddle through it. My voice sounded scratchy as I stuttered. "Good morning Jenny."

I paused to see if he was going to hit me, but when I didn't feel the belt, I realized I'd gotten her name right. My eyes moved to the next woman and I hesitated before taking a stab at her name. "Good morning… Sharon." I tensed as I waited but felt no pain. I was two for two and wondered how long my luck would last. I took a deep breath and tried the third woman's name, the one who was so badly beaten. "Good morning… Ashley." This time, my fragile nerves got the best of me and I had to see what he was doing behind me. I craned my neck as far as it would go but couldn't see his face. However, I couldn't miss the belt, swaying back and forth on the concrete as if he was itching to use it. I swallowed hard, so scared I could barely think straight. I faced the women again, relieved that I'd gotten that name right as well.

My whole body braced for pain as I took a stab at the fourth woman's name. "Good morning… uh… Kelly?" I heard the whistling sound in the air a split second before the belt hit me. The screeching howl that came from me was otherworldly. My breasts and stomach were thrust into the splintery pole at the same time a bomb was detonated on my back. My knees buckled and I slid down the pole, forcing slivers of wood under my skin.

I was on my knees, eyes squeezed shut, cheek against the pole, hugging it tightly. I whimpered and gasped for air until the burning slowly lessened. In my pain filled daze, I'd lost track of where he was in the room and braced for another lash. When I heard his belt dragging the ground as he walked away, I wanted to weep with relief, but I knew it wasn't over.

I drew in a quick breath when I heard him speaking. "Don't cry, Andrea. I'm sure she didn't forget your name on purpose." I slowly turned my head in time to see him rubbing the case of the woman whose name I'd gotten wrong. He seemed to be comforting her. As if he sensed my gaze, he turned around, flicking his belt against his jean covered leg, giving me a murderous look. I stiffened and quickly hid my face against the pole, hoping I hadn't just given him another reason to hurt me. My whole body sagged with relief when he turned back to the woman.

"That's not true. She doesn't like Kelly better." He shook his head as he spoke to her softly. "I'll make sure she doesn't do it again." I caught his profile as he paced. His eyes brighten as he smiled with superiority and turned back to Andrea. "I know you don't like the belt. None of you do, but you need to trust that I know what I'm doing. Her callous disregard for your feelings cannot go unpunished."

He rushed toward me and I thought he was going to hit me with his fist, but he went behind me, and stood impatiently shifting his weight from one leg to the other. I kept my head down, wishing he'd go away. He switched the belt to his left hand. The sudden movement had me squeezing the pole tighter. Without warning, he grabbed my hair and started pulling me off the floor. "Get up!" A pathetic whine spilled out of me as I fought to get my feet under me. "Even after you insulted her, Andrea is still willing to defend you." He let go of my hair, frowning in disappointment and waved his hand at the women. "Continue."

I keep my eyes centered on the floor close to the base of the cases. I was able to see the color of their dresses and hoped it was enough to trigger a memory of what he'd told me yesterday. I started where I left off and as each name left my mouth, I braced for another hit. He leaned in close, hissing into my ear, "Look at them while you speak." The sudden noise had me automatically jerking away, knocking the side of my head against the pole.

After I said the last woman's name, I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't believe I'd gotten them right. But I wasn't kidding myself, the rest was going to be near impossible to remember.

He pointed to Jenny. "Now, tell me how Jenny fell in love with me."

I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, my mind racing furiously as I tried to recall dates and locations as well as details of how they met, but there was no way I could remember. There'd been too much information. But I had to say something, so I took a stab at a date and when I heard his swift intake of breath, I knew I was going to pay dearly for my mistake.

"We met on June 8, 2005." He snarled. "Maybe this will help you remember." I jolted when the belt landed across my ass, knocking my mouth into the pole. I tasted blood and knew my lip had split open again. As I hugged the pole, whimpering and trying to breathe through the pain, he came around in front of me, red faced with rage and muttering. "Not only do you disrespect me, but Jenny, too. You better get it together. My patience is dwindling."

My forehead was against the pole, shoulders shaking with sobs. "Please," I begged. "No more." I didn't know how I was going to make it through this without him killing me.

"I warned you to pay attention when I told our stories… didn't I?"

"I'll do better… I promise. Just tell me one more time."

He leaned in so close I could feel his breath on my face. "You will learn that when I say something, I mean it." He straightened. "You may continue."

I tried hard to recall everything, but I couldn't. I'd been so traumatized when I saw what was behind the curtain, I could hardly think, let alone commit trivial things to memory. I gave it my best shot and by the time I finished what I remembered of the women's stories, I'd received fifteen lashes, and my backside was a flaming mass of flesh. There had been no lenience. The pain was so excruciating, my body shook with uncontrollable sobs.

He didn't try to hide the satisfied smile creeping over his face as he unlocked my hands from around the pole and relocked them in front of me. As he led me to the bed, I was in a daze, staggering like a drunk woman, each step tugging my skin, and causing pain to radiate from the back of my knees all the way up to my shoulders.

I waited by the bed while he went over to the shelves, my body shaking steadily, and my thoughts muddled, barely able to see through my eyes swollen from crying so hard. On some level, I knew I should be afraid, but I wasn't—I was just numb. When he returned, he was carrying a small tube of ointment. He put his hand on the back of my neck. "Lie down on your stomach." His voice turned gentle, not at all like the hate filled one he'd just been using while he beat me. I don't remember how it happened, but suddenly I was lying on my stomach and he was sitting beside me. "Just relax. This will help with the pain."

He gently rubbed the ointment across my shoulders down to my knees, covering every square inch he'd brutalized. "You should be thankful I didn't break the skin," he said as he swiped his palm over my flesh, creating a fiery friction that was unbearable. Every time I tried to ease away, he pressed down, making the burn intensify. "Why do you make me do it?" His hand paused. "Do you think I like having to discipline you?"

I held my breath, hoping he would finish and leave, but when his hand moved over my butt cheeks, the fog in my brain lifted and my whole body stiffened. All that pain I was feeling moments ago was forced to the back burner and fear took its place. His hand lingered, rubbing back and forth as if he was contemplating taking it further.

_Please don't_. I wanted to beg but was afraid anything I said would only end up encouraging him.

The longer he rubbed my ass, the worse my insides churned. When he finally swiped his hand down the back of each leg and put the cap on the ointment, I was so relieved I almost whimpered. As he got up and put the ointment away, I did my best to sink into the mattress and become invisible, hoping he was done with me.

My head was facing the wall, refusing the sight of him. I heard him exchanging the rechargeable generator and batteries in the lanterns. The lights had remained on since that first night, and I'd been grateful for that small concession. Now that I knew the dead women were down here with me, I'd have gone crazy with fear not being able to see them in the darkness. When the paper bag hit the bed beside me, I barely noticed. The last thing I remember was hearing the door close and him saying, "Next time you will do better."

I knew the bag held food and water, but right now, it held no interest. As far as I was concerned, death was welcome to take me. My mind was venturing into dangerous ground. "Where are you Joe?" I sobbed into the mattress. After my tears had run their course, I tried to think of the last time I was truly happy. It was the week before Christmas. Joe told me to pack a bag for fun and sun and whisked me away to Cuba. We stayed at an exclusive resort, right on the beach. At first, I was confused, we'd never done anything so grand as a couple, but then he explained how he'd been dreaming of diving these waters for years. We spent four glorious days lounging on the white sandy beaches and going on a few diving adventures. After my first dive, I told Joe I'd sunbathe on the deck of the boat while he explored under water. Since this was a once in a lifetime trip, I wanted him to have fun and not worry about helping me fumble my way through a dive.

On our last day, he arranged a romantic dinner on our private balcony, complete with champagne and soft music. It couldn't have been more perfect watching the sun set over the ocean while we ate. Right after dessert, he took my left hand in his slightly sweaty palm, and swallowed uncomfortably, but he never broke eye contact as he slid out of his seat, going down on one knee. "Cupcake—" he began.

The expression on my face had to have been comical. I was literally flabbergasted. My heart was in danger of flopping out of my chest. When he pulled a small velvet box out of his pants pocket and opened it, I stopped breathing. He'd actually bought a ring. It was what I'd wanted, but things were happening fast, and I couldn't think.

"Wha… What are you doing?" I stared at the beautiful diamond solitaire.

He smiled confidently. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"But the pool table?" I stuttered.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. "What about it? If I remember correctly, you didn't have a problem with the pool table when I spread you out on it and did that thing with my tongue that drives you wild."

My forehead creased in confusion. It just didn't make sense. Everyone knows you don't get rid of your dining room table in favor of a pool table unless you're no longer interested in settling down. I wasn't going to let Joe get away with using sex as a justification for what he did. "You got rid of your dining room table and bought a pool table," I said, my voice rising in pitch, right along with my anger. "I thought you didn't want to marry me anymore." By the time I was done, I was yelling and waving my hands around. The more animated I became, the more his eyes brightened with desire.

He looked at me and blinked a few times. "Why would a pool table make you think that? It was just something I took in exchange for helping Bill Thompson paint his house." He smiled lovingly as he took my hand and slid the ring on my finger. "I've had this ring for over a year, just waiting for the right time."

My hand trembled and my heart raced. "You're serious?" I asked, darting my head around, pretending to look in every corner of our room. "Your Mom and Grandma aren't here like the last time you proposed, are they?"

He hung his head, chest shaking with laughter. "Am I ever going to live that down?"

I started breathing harder, bordering on hyperventilating. He was doing a damn good job of convincing me, but I had questions… lots and lots of questions. "But what about kids, and cooking, and being a housewife?"

"I'd like a kid or two," he said, quirking an eyebrow at me as he let that sink in. "But I don't think your talents lie in the kitchen or the laundry room," he said with a proud smirk. "You have your own set of gifts that I appreciate immensely."

My heart was urging me to say yes, but my head was telling me to be cautious, and then there was Ranger to consider. I had feelings for him that weren't going away even though he'd discouraged me at every turn. He wanted me in his bed, but he didn't want a future with me… not now and probably not ever. He was always clear about that.

I looked back down at the ring on my finger. "This feels so sudden. What about my job?" We've butted heads over my job—my friends—the way I live my life. I was afraid he was going to start making demands as soon as I said yes.

"What about it?" He sighed and got to his feet, realizing he wasn't going to get a simple answer.

I tilted my head sideways in disbelief. "You don't like it. You complain about it at least once a day."

"That's true. I don't like your job, but I'm not going to stop you from doing it."

"So, what's the catch, Joe?" I crossed my arms and sat back in my chair. "What do I have to change if I say yes?" It seemed to me it was the same old song and dance, he wanted me to make all the changes to be with him, and he made none. He started to speak, but I held my hand up for him to wait. "You're in contact with violent criminals every day; if we were to have a family, what exactly would I tell our children if their father got injured or died in the line of duty?"

"You're already trying to kill me off and we haven't even said _I do?_" He laughed as if my concerns were trivial, but I was dead serious. I gave him a look that told him just how serious I was. If we got married and had kids, what would I do if something happened to him? I didn't think I was capable of raising children alone. In fact, I knew I wasn't. He picked up the bottle of champagne and topped off our glasses. "I admit my job is dangerous." he said. "But I've had the training to do it as safely as possible and you haven't. I've been saying this from the beginning. If you want to stay alive, you need to get formal training. That's all I ask." As if he realized things had gotten too serious, his face broke out in a panty melting smile, and he gave me an alternative that was meant jokingly, but deep down, he was as serious as a heart attack. "Or you could always quit the bounty hunting business and let me take care of you."

I pressed my lips together, giving him an annoyed sigh. He knew I wouldn't let him take care of me. He was just trying to push my buttons. "I don't want to be difficult, but this is a bit out of left field, maybe I could I have a little time to think?"

He hung his head for a second and then pulled me up and into his arms. "Sure, take all the time you need, as long as the answer is _yes_."

The song changed, to one that was perfect for the kind of dancing in which Joe excelled. The kind of music that ignited a fire in my belly and brought my hips hard against his, our movements mimicking what we both wanted. Joe was a force I'd never had any defense against. When his attentions were devoted to me, it was as if no other person existed outside of us.

He placed our entwined fingers over his heart, tracing the ring that promised a lifetime of love and then his eyes darkened as he gazed down at me. "I love you so damn much," he whispered, his voice turning husky with desire. "I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, Cupcake."

Tears pooled in my eyes as I gazed up at him, remembering the cheeky young boy in the garage, and the cocky teenager in the bakery… and looking back at me now was the man they had become—the man I loved.

He lowered his head, ghosting his lips over mine, his tongue tracing my bottom lip. I opened for him. I had no choice. I was his and he knew it… we both did. He deepened the kiss, pouring his feelings into each stroke of his tongue. Heat pooled low in my belly, and when the song ended, he scooped me up in his arms, carrying me through the open sliding glass doors to the bed where he released my legs, letting me slowly slide down his body.

Our eyes locked and I held my breath, pulse quickening as he slipped the straps of my sundress down my arms, inch by slow inch, as if he had all the time in the world to savor me. At this moment, I felt like the most beautiful woman on earth. The dress was pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a lacey red thong. Joe ran his eyes over my bare breasts, watching as my nipples tightened from just having his eyes on me. I drew my shoulders in, suddenly feeling unsure, usually we have primal, sweaty, balls to the wall monkey sex filled with lust, but this was more, this was making love, and it was the first time for us.

He sensed my reticence and ran his fingers lightly across the top of my breasts, teasing me with what was to come. My skin tingled with desire as I looked up at him through hooded eyes. I just needed to see him—to know that he was mine and we were together. Sometimes, I couldn't believe we'd found our way back to each other after all the years apart.

"We're going to take it slow and I'm going to love every part of this gorgeous body," he said at the same time his finger continued down my ribs to the indention at my waist and over the curve of my hip as if I was the most valuable treasure he'd ever seen. I closed my eyes and shivered.

He dropped soft kisses on my forehead, my eyes, my nose, before searing my mouth with a hunger that stunned me. I moaned my satisfaction into his mouth as he moved his hands back to my breasts and rolled my taut nipples between his fingers. His warm mouth moved to my neck, kissing me and breathing in my scent.

All thought left me when he leaned down and pulled one of my nipples into his mouth. My head fell back, pushing my breast forward, silently begging him for more. He knew my body well and gave me what I was begging for. He sucked my nipple harder, sending spirals of desire straight to my core, making me squeeze my legs together, searching for relief.

I was getting desperate. I needed to speed things along. I reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them one by one, before pulling it off his shoulders, and tossing it aside. The sight of his broad chest dotted sparsely with hair, and his Eagle tattoo left me breathless. With the tip of my index finger, I pushed him back onto the bed. He gave me a sly smile, letting me know he could turn the tables any time he wanted, but for the moment he was going to let me take control.

Joe loved to tease my body until I didn't think I could take it anymore and only then would he give me what I craved. But this time, I was going to show him what it meant to beg. I crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs and kissed his neck with open mouth kisses, adding a little suction before I pulled my lips away. I didn't want to mark him… much. I made my way down his chest, kissing and nipping while my hands worked on getting his belt and jeans opened. Once I had them undone, I scooted off him as he eagerly lifted his hips, shucking the rest of his clothes. As soon as he was completely naked, he gave me a wicked smiled and twisted us until I was underneath him.

He grabbed hold of the side of my thong with his teeth and started sliding it down my legs. Watching Joe play cave man made me laugh but didn't distract him from his goal. He started kissing and sucking his way back up my legs until his broad shoulders had my thighs pushed wide enough that I was fully exposed to his hungry gaze. He looked up at me from between my spread legs with so much need in his eyes my heart did this funny thing in my chest. "You're so damn beautiful," he said as his nostril's flared. I held my breath in anticipation, waiting to feel the warmth of his mouth on me, but all he did was stare at the center of my heat, licking his lips.

Patience was not a virtue I possessed. I shimmied my hips, heart throbbing in time with my clit, wanting his mouth on me—bad. He smiled seductively, making me wonder what he was going to do next. I hissed out a breath when he parted my folds with his thumbs and pushed one of his calloused fingers inside. I couldn't have stopped the shiver if I'd tried. "You're dripping wet for me."

"Always." I was breathing heavily, telling him without words that I was desperate for more. In one long swipe, he licked from my opening to my clit, sucking me greedily into his mouth. I moaned as my back arched off the bed. While he continued to circle my clit with his tongue, his talented fingers were busy finding that magical spot inside me. As soon as his finger pressed against it, a zing of electricity went through me and I might have whimpered a little. The sensations were too strong. I started pulling away, making it hard for his mouth to stay latched onto me. He placed one hand on my abdomen, holding me still as he sucked harder. That was all I needed. My hips rocketed off the bed and I finally begged. "Please, don't stop," I screamed.

He worked me until I exploded all over his tongue and my vision turned dark. By the time I could see again, Joe's glistening mouth was smiling down at me in a proud grin as he licked my juices from his fingers. "You taste as sweet as ever." He leaned down and kissed me, letting me taste myself on his lips.

I was boneless, but he wasn't done with me yet. He gently scooted me to the middle of the bed, and got up on his knees between my legs, stroking his magnificent cock. "If you say, yes, you get to have this for the rest of your life." He grinned, knowing I was imagining him sliding into my mouth, and what I was going to do to him. A rush of power swept through me and I wanted to make him as weak and desperate as he'd just made me.

His cock twitched in anticipation. I leaned forward, putting my hands on the backs of his thighs for support… I had to taste him. I bit my lip, eyeing the milky liquid dripping from his tip. My tongue darted out, catching the drops and swirling them around the head before I slid the tip into my mouth and sucked. His eyes closed and he shuddered. "Fuck, Stephanie, what are you doing to me?"

His reaction filled me with power, and he nearly cried when I let him fall out of my mouth, the loss too much to bear. He didn't need to worry. I was just getting started. I licked from the underside all the way to the tip, paying special attention to that spot right under the head that drives him wild. When his leg started shaking, I slid the tip back in my mouth and took him down my throat, further than I had ever taken him before. He was so big I wasn't going to be able to keep this up for long. My throat constricted as I swallowed, making him groan and grab onto my hair—not pulling—but letting me know I wasn't going anywhere. And when I reached down, rolling his balls between my fingers until they tightened, his whole body started vibrating. He was seconds away from coming and I was ready to swallow it all. Before that happened, he pulled out of my mouth. My lips made a popping sound as my prize was taken away. He had his eyes closed and fists clenched at his side. "I can't believe I'm saying this, Cupcake, but you have to stop that, or it'll be over before it gets started."

Smiling cheekily, I asked, "Are you saying you can't handle this Jersey Girl?"

He grinned, in that way that promised pleasure untold. "I've never been able to handle you," he said as he shook his head. "I don't even try." The next second he had me on my back, his cock sheathed and slowly sinking into me, inch by glorious inch. Our fingers were laced together on each side of my head as he balanced on his elbows, gazing into my eyes as if I alone held every dream he ever had. When he was fully seated, he withdrew almost all the way, and sunk in again. Each thrust was harder than the last, until he was pumping in a rhythm that made my blood sing.

"Harder," I screamed.

He obeyed, thrusting to the hilt several times, making sure to rub against my clit with each stroke. I threw my head back and took it all.

"So fucking good," he growled.

I cried out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me. When the last of my spasms ceased, he sought his own fulfillment. His hips pumped deeply twice more, and then his cock jerked as he stilled inside me. When he opened his eyes, I seared this moment into my memory forever.

His arms gave out and he dropped his weight on me. I reveled in the strength of his sweat covered body, still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm as he continued to pulse inside me. My heart was still trying to regain its normal rhythm when he fell over on his back and gathered me in his arms with my head resting on his chest. I breathed a sigh of contentment. "That was—"

Even though I couldn't see his face, I could tell he was grinning. "Yeah, Cupcake, it was."

"It's never been like that before with us," I said, breathlessly.

"I don't know about you, but I was giving you my best moves," he said.

I turned on my side, letting my hand roam down his chest to where the hair got thicker under his navel, playing and teasing. "Are you promising you'll give me that all the time if we get married?" I asked with a hint of smile in my voice.

"I don't know if either one of us can handle that on a regular basis." He tipped my chin so he could see my eyes, giving me a hopeful look. "Did I convince you to say yes?"

"I don't know. You are getting on in years. You might not be able to perform like that for much longer." I walked my fingers a little lower and he placed his hand over mine, stilling me.

"I might need a little break, but I can keep up. Don't you worry about that." He patted my hand.

This trip was turning out perfectly, and I was seriously thinking about just telling him yes and going home engaged. Eventually, we fell asleep in each other's arms with smiles on our faces. We were awakened sometime later by room service. Joe had prearranged a snack to be delivered at midnight. I sat up as he placed a tray of strawberries, mango's, and papaya's and a bowl of chocolate dipping sauce in the center of the bed. On the bedside table, he placed a bucket of chilled champagne and poured us each a glass.

"I'm a little surprised you suddenly want to marry me," I said as I dipped a strawberry in chocolate.

His brows drew together in confusion. "Why would you say that?"

Was he really clueless about why I doubted his sincerity?

"From the beginning you've been telling me not to get too close—too comfortable. No picking out kitchen curtains, remember?" I popped the strawberry in my mouth.

He blew out a breath. "That was a long time ago, and for the record, I'm counting on you to pick out curtains, and towels, and sheets, and anything else you want." That was a nice response, but before I gave Joe an answer, we needed to have a serious talk about fidelity and what marriage meant to each of us. Being in a semi relationship with Joe did nothing to lessen my fears of marriage, if anything it made it worse. His rumored sightings with Terry Gilman, and the way he kept our relationship running hot and cold, made me apprehensive to take the next step.

I pasted a smile on my face, dreading what I was about to say, but knowing we had to talk about it. "You know I have issues with trust." I looked down, my hand twisting the sheet. "My biggest fear is having my husband cheat on me again; I don't think I can recover from that a second time."

His hand came up to my face, turning me to face him. "Listen to me, Steph, as long as I'm committed to you, I will **never** touch another woman. You have my word."

I bit my lip, deep in thought. I wanted to believe him, but could I truly trust him? Was it over with him and Terry? And what about Ranger? Despite his stance on relationships, he was never far from my mind. All those questions took a backseat when I thought about what Joe and I just shared. He made me feel like I was the only woman in the world who could give him what he needed. I was ashamed that I doubted his devotion to me, but I still couldn't say yes. I bit my lip and asked, "When do you need an answer?"

"Take as long as you need, I'm not going anywhere. I want you to be sure about this because when you say I do, it's forever. Balls in your court, Cupcake."

I took that literally and gently grabbed hold of his balls. He had no objection, and this led to round two. After we were both sated, we lay on our sides, Joe spooning me from behind, lazily rubbing my stomach. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you'd gotten pregnant that night at the bakery?" His voice was so soft, I could barely hear him.

Silent tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, falling onto my pillow. I'd never told Joe that I missed my period. At the time, I could barely wrap my mind around it myself, but he was waiting for me to say something, so I decided to be vague and hope he'd move on to something else. "I try not to think about what might have been."

"After I left you that night, I thought about you a lot." I don't know why he was bringing all this up tonight, but whatever his reason, he wasn't going to stop until he'd said his peace. "All through basic training and Class A School, I wondered if there'd been a consequence for my carelessness." He nuzzled my neck. "I wanted to call you, but I didn't know what to say. Back then, everything seemed to be happening so fast. As soon as I graduated, I was ordered to the fleet and then I was stuck out at sea."

I had to tamp down the anger that bubbled to the surface. That part of my life had been painful, and I tried very hard to block those memories, but for a moment I lifted the veil. I wasn't normally late, but seven weeks had gone by since that night in the bakery and I was getting more and more anxious by the second. Mare tried to convince me to take a pregnancy test, but I was afraid to find out for sure. I wanted to at least wait until the end of Baton camp. Of course, Joe didn't know any of this. I never tried to contact him, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. For a long time, I wallowed in my anger at him for having left me to deal with the fall out of what we did. I didn't want to talk about this then and I certainly didn't want to talk about it now. I ignored the pain in my chest and told him a version of the truth. "Getting pregnant would have been a disaster. Neither one of us were ready to be parents. We were still kid's ourselves."

He squeezed me tight. "Yeah. It was probably for the best. You know better than anyone what a selfish punk I was back then. I wouldn't have been good for you or a kid." He sighed loudly and brushed a curl behind my ear. "But I'd like to be a father someday. A better one than my old man."

A vision of Joe holding our baby came to mind and I had to stifle the sob that threatened to rip through me. Exactly seven weeks after the Tasty Pastry, I started bleeding and convinced myself I'd just been late and was never pregnant. I was filled with relief that my period had finally come, but there was so much blood—and pain—more than I thought possible. Tears flowed a little heavier and I sniffed. All these years, I let the lie I told myself become my truth. After all, I had no proof. I'd never taken the test or gone to the doctor to confirm. But deep inside—I knew.

"Are you crying," he asked, worried.

All that pain was a lifetime ago. Maybe one day I'd tell him what happened to our baby, but not today. "This trip was unexpected." I dried my tears on the edge of the sheet and tried to put on a happy face. "I guess I'm a little overwhelmed. The only thing I know for sure, is that you'll make a great dad," I said with confidence and then snorted. "It's me you should be worried about."

He lightly pinched my hip. "You'll be the best mom, and our kids will be the luckiest in the Burg."

I rolled my eyes at Joe's faith in me. "Who are we kidding? They'll be little hellions like we were." Neither one of us spoke for a while, each imagining our future, I suppose. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I said, "I'm not driving a minivan."

"Okay," he barely whispered.

I tapped his forearm. "So, you'll drive the minivan?"

"Hell no!" He grumbled. "We'll strap the car seat to the top of the SUV." I laughed as I poked him in the rib with my elbow.

As the vision faded, I was once again reminded of where I was and how hopeless my situation was. People always say that happiness is fleeting, but you never quite believe them. You always think, there's time to change things, time to do things, time to… live, but the truth is, everything can change in an instant. I took so many things for granted. I'd give anything to be back in Cuba, lying in Joe's arms, dreaming of our future, instead of living this nightmare. If I'd known everything was going to be stolen from me so soon, I'd have told him my answer was yes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: The following chapter contains adult situations and graphic content that might be disturbing to some readers. I'm choosing not to give spoilers, so if you have triggers please feel free to message me with any questions you might have before reading.**

**CHAPTER 9**

**Practice Makes Perfect**

Whatever he'd rubbed on my back yesterday had numbed the pain enough for me to sleep, but as it wore off, I was thrust back into a world of agony. I was still lying on my stomach. My entire backside felt swollen and hot—worse than any sunburn I'd ever had. At the same time, the rest of me was freezing because he'd left my blanket lying on the floor when he left. I couldn't reach it without stretching and I didn't think I could bear the pain if I moved right now. It didn't matter anyway; I'd rather freeze to death than have anything touching my skin.

The longer I lay there, the louder and more painful the noises in my stomach became. I rolled onto my side, blinking back tears as my skin stretched until I thought it would split. I gave myself a few minutes to adjust to the pain before I felt around on the bed for the paper bag. My stomach was hurting so badly, I needed to take the edge off. I managed to tear off a tiny piece of peanut butter sandwich and slip it in my mouth. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to me if he didn't come back. Being locked down here at his mercy for food and water meant his fate sealed mine. But if his anger was the price I paid for living, I wasn't sure it was worth it.

I drifted in and out of sleep, eating a little each time before letting sleep take me back under. I don't know if it was a sound or the temperature dropping in the room that woke me, but this time when I opened my eyes, he was sitting side view in his chair in front of the glass cases—naked. His gaze remained steadfast on the women. I wasn't sure he was even aware I was in the room.

My eyes widened when I noticed his hand moving up and down his stiff cock. My mind raced, trying to understand why he was suddenly maintaining an erection when nothing he'd forced me to do to him had been able to make him hard. I looked down at the blanket on the floor, suddenly desperate to have it draped over me. I slowly reached down, holding in my cries of pain as I stretched my body far enough to pull it off the floor and over me as if putting on armor.

As his hand stroked faster, his breathing accelerated, and he threw his head back, groaning loudly. He held his palm over the tip of his dick to catch the fluid as it erupted. After he collected every drop, he took slow breaths, trying to calm himself until he was able to walk to the cases.

While he was in his zone, paying me no attention, he dipped his index finger into his liquid. My eyes followed his finger, unable to breathe, as he painted streaks on the glass, whispering as he moved from one to the next, marking them with his essence. I curled my lip in disgust—appalled that these women had to endure further degradation. As if he sensed me watching, he stopped mid swipe and turned to me, our eyes connected and held. In that moment, he looked innocent—almost childlike.

He abandoned what he was doing and started toward me with single minded purpose, his now limp penis dangling between his thighs with every step. My mouth had been hanging open as I watched him painting on the cases, but now that he was focused on me, I clamped it shut and swallowed hard, fear overriding my physical suffering as self-preservation kicked in. I quickly sat up, ignoring the blast of pain and scooted backward on the mattress to get away from him. When my back scraped against the roughened block wall, I hissed and lurched forward, falling off the bed as my back erupted in flames. Before I hit the floor, he quickly caught me by the arm and yanked me back up onto the bed while still cupping the remnants of liquid in his free hand. I fought to stay upright as he pushed me down onto my damaged back. "Please… my back." I begged him to let me up.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I want you to lie down." His mouth quirked up in a malevolent smile as he tapped my shoulder with the tip of the finger he'd been using to paint the cases.

"No." I begged. I couldn't yield to him, but if I didn't, he might kill me, and I didn't want to die. I squeezed my eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. When his hand squeezed my shoulder and pushed me down, a deep primal urge to fight hit me, but I told myself it was no use. I was beaten, and we both knew it. He had something in mind to do to me and nothing was going to stop him.

I watched him dip his finger in the disgusting liquid still cupped in his other hand and nearly gagged. I shook my head against the mattress, knowing what he was about to do. "Please don't." My voice broke as I begged him to leave me alone. My instinct to fight was too strong. The closer his wet finger got to me, the harder it was to let him do it—even if it meant saving my life.

I grabbed his forearm with both hands to hold him off, but his finger continued toward me. I pushed against him harder, fixated on keeping his glistening finger away from me, but the harder I pushed, the bigger his smile got. It seemed as if he was barely applying any energy at all while my struggling was making the skin on my back feel like it was being ripped off. His finger was inching closer—now only millimeters from my nipple—and then… he touched me. I lost all control—hitting, scratching, and clawing. "Get away from me… get if off… get it off me."

"Stop it." His voice was sharp and commanding as he yanked his arm out of my grasp. My hands fell onto my stomach in defeat. "I brought pizza for our dinner, but if you touch me again without permission, I will eat it alone while you watch." He waited for a reaction, but I could only lie there, forcing air in and out through my nostrils and grinding my back teeth to dust. Did he expect me to let him do this to me and not try to stop him? He was out of his mind. "Are we clear?" His eyebrows lifted and held as he waited.

I had no control over anything that happened, but that didn't mean I had to watch him do whatever it was he was going to do, so I closed my eyes. Bile crept up my throat as I felt him brush my nipple, wetting it with his ejaculation, first one then the other.

"Open your eyes." He groaned in frustration, waiting for me to obey. "I want you to watch."

I clenched my hands into fists, grudgingly opening my eyes, hoping it would be over fast. His eyes sparkled down at me in fascinated delight as he blew on one nipple and then the other, making them pucker into tight buds. His mouth fell open, watering for a taste. As his head descended closer to my breast, I tried shoving him away again. This time, he effortlessly took both my hands in one of his and held them over my head, forcing my breasts upward as if I were offering them to him of my own free will. I wanted to puke.

I sobbed as I looked at the ceiling, at the wall, any place but him. When I finally felt his tongue on my nipple, I wanted to die. Tears ran from the corners of my eyes while I silently cried for Ranger, for Joe, for my Mom… for anybody.

He hummed in delight as he slowly licked each nipple, sucking his own taste from my skin. A fresh surge of anger splintered through me and I started twisting and struggling. He was caught off guard and loosened his hold around my wrists. I was able to slip my hands free and shove him off. To keep from falling, he grabbed for me, but I flapped my arms around, leaving him with nothing to grasp.

He landed on his ass with a thud and a hateful expression on his face. I thought for sure, he'd give me another beating, but instead he slowly got to his feet and walked over to the pile of clothes. After he got dressed, he placed a large pizza box on the table and sat down.

"Get over here and eat." His voice was gruff as he reached for a slice of pizza, but I wasn't seeing any signs of retaliation from him.

I breathed a sigh of relief even though his actions confused me. His filth was still on my breasts and wrists, so I used the corner of my blanket to hastily wipe it away before I walked to the table. I was wary of his mood, but from my experience so far, his moods changed quicker than my cars went up in flames.

"What day is it?" I asked as I sat down and reached for a slice of pizza.

"Why," he chuckled. "Do you have a hot date?"

I took a deep breath, trying to harness the urge to put my hands around his neck.

"If you must know, today is January third."

My hand tightened around my water bottle. Today was my ninth day in this cellar, which meant he'd skipped yesterday. I'd been in so much pain I hadn't noticed he'd been gone longer. My heart fluttered painfully at how easy it would be for him to let me die down here. I stuffed my mouth with a bite of pizza, eating with gusto. Only minutes ago, I wished for death and now I was ready to do anything to stay alive.

"You didn't do well on your first test," he said conversationally as he reached for another slice of pizza. "Your lack of focus made me so angry I had to stay away yesterday. I couldn't chance having to punish you again so soon."

Something was very wrong with him and nothing I said was going to change that. The only thing I could do right now was make sure my belly was full. I reached for my fourth slice, leaving one final piece in the box. He seemed to be slowing down and I hoped he'd leave that one for me as well. As if he'd read my mind, his eyes locked on mine and a slow smile creeped over his face as he reached for the last piece. "You don't want this do you?" I turned away, not wanting him to see the hope extinguished from my eyes. He chuckled as he stuffed it into his mouth and put the empty box in a garbage bag. "Don't worry we still have our after-dinner treat."

I wanted to groan in disgust when he pulled out two pints of Chunky Monkey. I was growing to hate them with a passion.

After our meal was complete, he put everything away, and held his hand out to me. "It's time."

Despite my stinging back, I slid down in my chair at the same time he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up. "Nooo," I tried twisting my arm away, frantically begging him. "I can't do that again. Please don't make me."

"Stop it!" he yelled. When I didn't calm down, he smoothed his hand over my hair. "Don't be scared. I have confidence you'll do better this time." With that proclamation, he tugged me across the room. I stumbled behind him, suddenly sweating even though it was near freezing in here. My heart was beating so fast, I wondered if it was possible to die of fear.

Instead of securing me to the pole, he made me stand in front of the women. My shackles were still attached and so was my tether, which kept me a little more than arm's length away from them. I blinked back tears and tried hard to keep my body from shaking. I knew full well what was going to happen, and I also knew this beating was going to hurt worse since my back still bore the unhealed streaks from two days ago.

My instincts screamed at me to run. I stepped back, right into his chest, and sucked in a breath. His arms came around me, like a lover, resting low on my belly. "Please don't make me do it." I sobbed. "My back isn't even healed. You're going to kill me."

His arms tightened and his hot breath moistened my ear as he whispered. "You can do this. I believe in you." Abruptly, he released me and walked closer to the cases, placing himself between the women and me. He faced me and unbuckled his belt, quickly removing it from the loops. It made a cracking sound as it whipped through the air. He gave me a wide berth, circling around until he was at my back. "You may begin," he said with callous indifference.

I opened my mouth to protest one more time, but nothing came out. All I could do was suck in air that did nothing to make it easier to breathe. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Nausea threatened and I bent over at the waist. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, getting impatient, and I knew that if I didn't start soon, he'd lash out in anger. I straightened my spine as I tried to control my breathing enough to form words. I started with Jenny, the first victim, and told her story, making only one mistake.

"Why can't you learn?" he screamed at the same time the lash broke across my back.

The blow knocked the air out of me, and I staggered forward, propelled beyond the chains reach. My neck jerked against the collar so hard, I thought my windpipe might have been crushed. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see. The pain was everywhere all at once and it was so much worse than last time. It felt like he'd used a knife on me instead of leather.

I clawed at my collar, desperate to relieve the pressure. When I was finally able to draw breath, I looked down, expecting to see blood dripping onto the floor, but there were only tears. I knew he was still behind me and that any second the belt could fly at me again. I was filled with so much anger I was strangling on it. If I ever got my hands on that belt, I'd wrap it around his neck, and pull until his face turned purple and he couldn't breathe. I'd hold it tight while the light in his eyes went out and he was deader than the women in front of me.

He was oblivious to my murderous thoughts. "Continue," he instructed as he waved the belt back and forth along the floor.

It went on like that until I finished with the last woman, Melissa, and by then I was laying on the floor curled in a ball, tears rolling down my face. The effect of eleven lashes on my already damaged back was barbaric. I could feel him standing over me. Not knowing what he had planned next kept me in a constant state of awareness. He grabbed hold of the chain connected to my collar and pulled me up. I dug my fingers in between the metal and my skin, choking and sputtering while trying to get my feet under me. My need for air was turning desperate. When I was on my feet, he let the chain go slack while I continued to gasp.

He barely gave me time to breathe before tugging the chain, directing me as if I were a dog to follow him. He led me back to the bed and I practically fell onto my stomach. I had no fight left in me, but I braced for what was to come. I knew this wasn't over when I heard him rummaging in the boxes on the other side of the room and then felt the mattress shift as he sat down. I was sure he was rubbing the ointment into my back, but this time I couldn't feel anything. I was numb from the inside out. My mind was a chaotic mess of emotions, swirling like a hurricane until I was so confused, I didn't know what I felt.

"So soft," he said, kneading one butt cheek and then the other as if he was enjoying applying his special brand of after care. I didn't object to his ministrations or fight him off. He was going to do what he wanted, and I was so beaten down I was going to let him. "Lie still and rest." He gave me one final pat on the ass and got to his feet. He moved across the room to put the cream away and exchange the generators and lantern batteries.

He paused in front of my bed and laid the brown paper bag and bottle of water beside me. He stood watching me for some time, waiting for a response from me, but I never turned toward him. He finally sighed heavily and left.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

**Against the Clock**

The past three days had proved to be the most excruciating days of Ranger's life. All his time and energy had been focused on finding Stephanie, only stopping for a couple hours to sleep when it seemed impossible to hold his eyes open any longer, but if he didn't stay busy, his thoughts turned dark. He knew all too well what kinds of torture Stephanie could be suffering and that's why he was doing everything in his power to find her. Ten days was a long time to endure and he was afraid she might be thinking about giving up if she wasn't already dead. That thought stopped him cold.

Images of her being raped or beaten assailed him. Suddenly, overcome with fury, he swiped a stack of files off his desk with the back of his hand sending papers flying across his office. His outburst did little to relieve his anger or make those images go away. He saw them every time he closed his eyes. He was so frustrated he wanted to destroy everything around him. He didn't understand how this could be happening. He'd put trackers in her car, her clothes, her shoes, even her phone and purse, and it still wasn't enough. He was a highly trained soldier who owned his own security company and he hadn't been able to keep the woman he loved safe. How was that for irony?

He could feel that she was still alive, but deep in his bones, he knew her time was running out. If he didn't find her soon, she'd die and then what would he do? He couldn't imagine his life without her. The process had been gradual, but somewhere along the way she'd become so important to him that it scared him. That was something he'd never admit to anyone. He was willing to let everything he'd worked for go down the tubes just to find her. He had every man working around the clock, running down every lead, but they still had nothing and nowhere to look. Not only were they hitting a wall with the investigation, but his company was feeling the effects of his quest to find her. He just couldn't care less. If Tank couldn't keep things afloat, then to hell with it.

While Ranger was busy searching for Stephanie, Tank was putting out fires for Rangeman. Clients were beginning to complain, and many had threatened to switch their accounts to the competition, a new company in the area called, Elite Security. Just like Batman had a nemesis, so did Ranger. His name was Cole Reynolds, CEO of Elite Security. He was taking advantage of Ranger's distraction to swoop in and steal clients away. If things continued, Ranger was in danger of losing everything he'd built.

Tank was well aware of Cole Reynolds' desire to put Rangeman out of business, and while Ranger was focused on finding Stephanie, he was going to make sure that didn't happen. His first order of business had been to call in every contract worker on their roster to take care of the day to day operations, which would help relieve some of the burden off the other Rangemen, but it still wasn't enough. Tank took it a step further and asked Ranger's uncle, Alejandro Menendez, Chief Operating Officer of the Miami office, to send everyone he could spare. His second in command, Tanks counterpart, Emilio Esparza, along with, Silvio, and twenty other men quickly volunteered. With this influx of manpower, Rangeman was able to continue serving their customers while at the same time allowing the Trenton Rangeman to devote their time almost exclusively to searching for Stephanie.

As the days passed, Tank grew more and more concerned about Ranger's mental health. He'd been holed up in his office, pouring over traffic cam footage surrounding Stephanie's apartment, the mall, and the bond's office as well as surveillance footage from surrounding businesses and private residences. They'd collected footage from as far back as three months ago. By tracing her movements, Ranger was hoping to get an image of the person who'd been stalking her or at least the license plate number. When Ranger's eyes got too tired to concentrate on the footage, he'd hit the streets, tirelessly interviewing contacts. Which meant Tank had to follow him around and make sure those he interviewed lived to see another day. Ranger was spiraling, and Tank didn't know how to stop it. If they didn't find Stephanie soon, he was afraid Ranger was going to do something rash.

Even though Tank was the one running Rangeman, he still needed Ranger's signature on various pieces of paperwork. He was posed outside Ranger's office, psyching himself up to knock on the door. He was the only one willing to approach him in his current mood, but he was also man enough to admit he was scared. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat off his bald head. He sighed deeply and knocked on Ranger's office door, breezing in without waiting for an answer.

Ranger was sitting at his desk, bent over his laptop, studying the screen intently. Tank didn't miss the file folders with their contents strewn on the floor. He decided not to mention them as he placed the time sheet on Ranger's desk. "This week's overtime needs your signature."

Ranger didn't give a shit about the overtime. He didn't even take his eyes off the computer screen as he scribbled his signature on the paper before sliding it back across the desk. Tank took the paper and stood silently in front of Ranger's desk, wanting to say something to help his friend, but he wasn't good with words, and Ranger wouldn't appreciate platitudes anyway. Realizing he was out of his depth, he bent and picked up the files and instead of placing them back on the desk, he put them on top of the filing cabinet and left as quickly as he'd entered.

As soon as the door shut behind Tank, Ranger paused the video and let his head fall back on his padded leather chair. If he wasn't careful, he'd miss something important and that was unacceptable, not with Stephanie's life hanging in the balance. He rubbed his eyes, weary and defeated, his mind drifting.

For years, physical gratification was the only reason he'd bothered seeking out the company of a woman. He had no time or inclination to attach himself permanently to anyone. He made life and death decisions on the fly and didn't want to take anyone else into consideration. It was his life and he lived it without encumbrance—until her.

From the moment she walked into the diner, wearing that red silk blouse, unbuttoned a little too low in deference to the sweltering heat, he'd wanted her to notice him. Unfortunately, he was still establishing his street cred in Trenton, which meant he had to remain in character. Like any other woman, she took the time to scan his body and he knew she liked what she saw, but his homeboy persona hadn't interested her. Very few people knew the real Carlos. He always gave them bits and pieces of an image, but she ripped right through the layers until she saw… him.

Admittedly, in the beginning, he'd only wanted to screw her and move on to his next conquest, but over time she burrowed her way into his steel plated heart. She was special, the kind of woman who needed a relationship before she had sex. He could admit he'd been cocky enough to think she'd sleep with him in exchange for driving his flashy cars. It'd worked on other women, but not her. He hadn't set out to make a deal in exchange for her body, but he wanted her badly and he wasn't going to stop until he had her. After all, he was the master of the game. And she hadn't stood a chance.

He regretted how he treated her after their first night together. It was supposed to be a one and done—complete the act and her hold on him would be broken—but after his first taste, he was hooked. Now, more than ever, she was under his skin and he couldn't get her out. But right now, he couldn't get their last conversation out of his head. She'd been brave enough to finally ask him what she should have asked all a long and he'd been a coward not to grab hold of what she offered.

Four days before Christmas, he'd stopped by her apartment to let her know he was going out of town. She had no clue how significant that gesture was. He wouldn't have done it for any other woman—and there had been plenty over the years.

_I let myself into her apartment and leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting. I could hear her singing off key through the bathroom door and smiled, knowing she was going to be annoyed I was listening when she wasn't aware. It amazed me how quickly the darkness lifted when she was near. We could be across a crowded room and as soon as I saw her, I'd feel lighter, more worthy. I didn't understand it, but I craved it and… her. _

_The bathroom door swung open, and she stopped short, clutching her chest and stifling a scream. "Damnit, Ranger! You almost gave me a heart attack." As usual, I gave her body a quick once over and thought about smiling again. She was wearing a Ghost Busters t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. I couldn't help but watch her breasts as they rose and fell with each heavy breath. "Am I going to have to tie a bell around your neck?" _

_I couldn't stop the slow smile from forming, showing her how amusing I found her. It didn't matter what was going on in my life, seeing her brightened everything. I stepped into her space, backing her against the wall, and raised my hand to tuck an unruly curl behind her ear. It was wrong of me to push her like this, but I couldn't stop. I had so little control where she was concerned. I nudged my hardening cock between her legs, the place I wanted most to be. Her eyes dilated and her breath hitched, but I didn't give her time to get skittish. Tangling my hand in her hair, I swooped in for a deep kiss that had my thoughts moving toward the bedroom, but no matter how much I wanted to strip her naked and slide inside her, that wasn't my reason for stopping by. _

_With great effort, I pulled back with my arms still locked around her waist. "I'm heading out of town." I looked deeply into her eyes for a reaction, but she had her own version of a blank face and I didn't like it when she wouldn't let me read her. I'd said it a hundred times before, but I needed her to know that even if I wasn't physically here, I was still taking care of her. "Tank is available if you need anything." She was always quick with her response and most times I took great joy in whatever she blurted out. This time, I wanted her to tell me she was going to miss me, but I didn't think that was going to happen. As messed up as that was, I still hoped she'd at least try to stake her claim. _

_Finally, she frowned, and I wondered what was running through her mind. I knew she was curious about where I was going and when I'd be back, but I'd trained her not to ask too many personal questions, creating a distance that bothered me on a level previously unreachable. I mentally cleared my mind. Thinking about things I could never have was unproductive. My life was a constant state of danger. I had a long list of enemies that was growing every day. The closer she was to me, the more danger she was in. I'd chosen this life for myself and now I had to face the consequences of it. But I couldn't stand the way she was looking up at me. To rid her face of the silent longing, I kissed her soundly. When I released her, the fog cleared, and she finally let her curiosity get the better of her. "Will you be back for Christmas?"_

_"__Doubtful," I replied as I gave in to the need to feel her against me one more time and let my fingers wander over the tops of her breast. "I'll be in Miami."_

_Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Will you see Julie while you're there?"_

_"__I've been invited," I said, already throwing up my mental shields to keep the pain from that long-ago decision at bay. It wasn't something I liked to dwell on. Contrary to what others might think, I'm not a heartless man. I never dreamed I would give my child up for adoption. I was just lucky Rachel and Ron allowed me to be a part of Julie's life, even if it was a distant part. Visiting my daughter was difficult for me, but I've never wavered in my belief that I did the right thing for her. _

_Stephanie ducked under my arm and walked back toward her bedroom. "Hang on a minute," she yelled over her shoulder as she disappeared inside. When she came back out, she handed me a bag from Barnes & Noble. "Can you give this to Julie?" _

_I had to admit, I didn't see this coming. To my knowledge Stephanie hadn't spoken with Julie since Scrogg kidnapped them both. I peeked inside the bag and found a hardback book with an eccentric looking spaceship on the cover. It was the fifth book in __**The Stargazer Series**__, by someone named, Nicholas Lazarro. "Babe?" I raised my brow in question and fell back on my standard reply when I was clueless as to what she was up to. _

_She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as she went into the living room and sat on the couch. I followed, sitting in the chair across from her, eyeing her quizzically. Stephanie was good at sensing people's emotions. She detected I was uneasy that she and Julie had remained in contact and rushed to explain. "We went through a traumatic experience together, Ranger, and now we email occasionally, get over it." She rolled her eyes at me before continuing. "After missing a book signing by her favorite author when he was in Miami, she asked me if I would mind going into the city to get an autographed copy at the next stop on his tour. My train was late, and by the time I made it to the Barnes & Noble on the Upper East Side, Mr. Lazarro had already gone. Luckily, he'd left a few signed copies, and I was able to snag the last one."_

_Her explanation was simple, but I was poignantly reminded that I didn't know much about Julie, and maybe I was also a little hurt that Julie hadn't asked me to do this for her. This was one of those times I was glad I could keep my emotions off my face. But even with my blank face, Stephanie sensed I had questions. I knew if I remained quiet, she'd keep talking. _

_"__It was no big deal, Ranger. I offered to go." She shrugged and turned her curious eyes back on me. "So, what did you get Julie for Christmas?__" _

_"__Cash." I told her, feeling confident. You can't go wrong with cash._

_"__Oh." She frowned. _

_"__Oh?" I asked, lifting one eyebrow, wondering why she thought that was a bad idea. "Are you telling me you wouldn't be happy with cash?" _

_She clasped her hands between her knees and scooted to the edge of the couch, as if ready to explain something life changing to me. I couldn't wait to hear her reasoning. It was usually entertaining. "Sure," she said and shrugged for the second time in as many minutes. "Cash is good, but no one has fond memories of getting cash as a gift. Presents should be special."_

_I didn't know what she was talking about. Money was tight when I was growing up and the few times I'd received cash as a gift, I'd been thrilled. "She can use it to buy whatever she wants," I explained. "I have no idea what to get an eleven-year-old girl." I clarified, hoping it would be the end of this conversation. I had a plane to catch. _

_A slow smile enveloped her face and she jumped to her feet, heading for the kitchen. "Well, I guess it's good you stopped by, because I know exactly what Julie wants." When she noticed I remained in my seat, she motioned for me to follow. "Come here and look at this." _

_I checked my watch, and decided I had enough time to humor her a little more. I stood beside her while she booted up her laptop and pulled up a website called Pinterest. "What am I looking at?"_

_She turned to me, giving me an appalled look. "This website is a virtual corkboard for every kind of media content under the sun. You can pin things like pictures, recipes, outfits, or in this case… furniture." She typed in Julie's name and a new page opened. "Everything on this board is something Julie loves." She clicked on the picture of a bookcase with glass doors and it took us to the company's website. _

_I didn't know much about preteen girls, but a bookcase didn't seem like it would be high on their list of priorities. "You're telling me she wants a bookcase?"_

_"__In her last email, she complained about her younger siblings destroying her things and since she's started collecting autographed copies of her favorite books, she wishes she had some place safe to keep them. This bookcase has glass doors so she can keep her books safe and still be able to see them and enjoy them." She clicked on the store locator link and it opened to another page. "Oh, good! This furniture store has a location in Miami." She picked up her phone and entered the number listed. "Let's see if they have any in stock."_

_While she talked to the salesperson, I wondered how this went from a simple visit to me buying furniture. Stephanie might be convinced, but I wasn't sure Rachel and Ron would appreciate me buying Julie a bookcase. She listened to the person on the phone and then held it away from her ear, whispering, "Does Rangeman Miami have a truck?"_

_I nodded. _

_"__Good. You can have one of your men pick it up tomorrow and store it at Rangeman until you can drive it to her house on Christmas day. That'll be a terrific surprise." She smiled, proud of herself. I don't know why, but I've never been able to disappoint her. I took the phone, gave the saleswoman my credit card information, and disconnected. Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Now you have another problem."_

_I lifted one eyebrow. "I didn't have any problems till I came to see you."_

_Where most women would be offended, Stephanie only smiled. "I love it when smart ass Ranger comes out to play." Shaking her head, she continued. "But you can't bring Julie a present without getting something for her siblings." _

_Stephanie thinks I have ESP and I love how powerful that makes me feel, but the truth is, unless she's having sexual thoughts, I rarely know what she's thinking and even less how to follow her logic. They weren't my kids; I didn't see the issue. "I've never brought presents for the other children," I told her. _

_"__Maybe so, but that was when you only gave Julie a card with money in it. Right?" She didn't wait for me to acknowledge that fact. She knew that's what I did and was already moving on. "They probably weren't even aware anything was in the card, so they didn't feel left out. I mean, what kid wants a card for Christmas when they're that age?" As if she'd suddenly solved the puzzle she'd been mentally working through, she tapped her index finger on her chin and then rushed to the hall closet, retrieving a large bag. She sat it on the coffee table and pulled the new Playstation4 game system out. "Hector, Lester, and I camped out at Best Buy on Black Friday. We waited in that line for hours so Lester and I could get one of these and Hector could get some other kind of gadget that I didn't even pretend to understand. I was going to give it to my niece's for Christmas, but then I found out Albert's mother already bought them one." As if she realized she was rambling, she smiled and slapped the receipt in my hand. _

_I barked out a laugh, feeling like I was being suckered. Before I could speak, she confidently added, "You do know I could flip this on the street for three times what I paid for it—right?"_

_I couldn't resist hugging her to me as I shook with laughter. "I didn't know stopping by was going to get so complicated—or expensive."_

_She pulled back and looked up, mouth twisted in mock pity for me. "I can't help it if you left things to the last minute." She shook her head. "That wasn't smart." _

_I gave her a quick squeeze and kiss on the forehead. "Now that I've been fleeced of all my money, I should go." I started for the door with heavy steps. It was getting harder and harder to leave her._

_"__Wait, there's something else." _

_I stopped in my tracks. How could there be anything else?_

_She ran to her bedroom again and came back with a small gift bag and a bright smile. "This is for you." She held the bag out for me to take._

_She couldn't know it, but my heart was hammering in my chest. I hadn't received a personal gift in years… not since I'd left for the service. _

_I didn't take my eyes off her as I took the bag. "Me?" I felt bad that I didn't have anything for her._

_She shrugged. "It's just a little something I thought might spruce up your place. That is… if you can find room in all that clutter." Her laugh was a little too loud and a little too high, telling me she was uncertain about whatever she'd gotten me. _

_I pulled out the contents, moved by the gesture. There was a small replica of my old Porsche Boxster and the green and white garbage truck that crushed it. I knew she was waiting for my reaction, but I couldn't look at her—I needed a minute. It seemed like this all happened so long ago. I'd fought my feelings hard, but when I showed up at the accident site and realized she could have been crushed under all that metal, I had to acknowledge my growing affection for her. That evening, I took her to Rossini's and without even giving it much thought, I told her about Julie. Only a handful of people knew of her connection to me and yet I sat at that table and told her I'd been married before and had a child. I dropped the bag on the table and backed Stephanie into the wall, saying with my lips what I couldn't put into words. I wanted to scoop her up and carry her to the bedroom where I could leisurely make love to her. "I didn't get you anything." I whispered into her neck after I nipped her skin with my teeth, marking her._

_"__You do things for me all the time," she said breathlessly and then seemed to come out of her stupor. "But there is something I'd like to talk about,__" __she murmured in between kisses and trying to catch her breath. _

_I braced myself and managed to pull away a little bit. This sounded serious. I hope she didn't have another stalker. I nodded for her to continue. She hesitated, nervously biting her lip, but continued to meet my eyes. "You love me, right? In your own way." _

_I might have appeared unaffected, but that was because her question caught me off guard and I didn't know where she was going with this. The truth is… I've been in love with her for a long time. Many times, I found myself dreaming__of a life with her, of being enough for her, but the things I've done in my past… let's just say I'd rather walk away than have her look at me with anything but respect. And then there are my enemies. Anyone of them could decide she was the ticket to taking me down. They could take her and use her against me or worse, kill her. She was anxiously waiting for my response. I should tell her no, that I didn't love her, that everything I felt was physical, and leave her alone, but I couldn't lie to her. I never had and I wasn't going to start now. I acknowledged the truth with a nod. _

_She finally breathed in deep and then sighed as if grateful her suspicions had been right. I thought maybe she'd stop with the questions, but that would have been too easy, and Stephanie was anything but easy. "Do you ever see us being more to each other than what we are right now?" _

_I took a step back, shocked that she'd asked me point blank. This wasn't like her. It made me wonder what was going on. She's the closest person in the world to me, but I keep her at arm's length by only showing her glimpses of who I really am. I know she can't resist a puzzle—and to her—I'm the biggest puzzle of all. I keep her interested enough that she doesn't demand more than I can give, and at the same time, it keeps her from totally committing to Morelli. I went so far as to tell her Morelli was stringing her along when I treated her no better. It was a shitty thing to do. _

_"__What are you asking, Babe?" _

_She took a deep breath and went for it. "I guess I want to know if you're in love with me—the kind of love people build a future on." _

_This was it… the day I'd been dreading was finally here. Thoughts of someday offering her more had seemed like a harmless dream, but too many changes had to take place before that could happen. She deserved a man that would share every aspect of his life with her and give her a home and children. As long as she was happy, I could be content living on the fringes of her life. "I told you my lifestyle doesn't lend itself to relationships. The things I do make it hard to commit to a woman. I'm here right now and that's all I can guarantee." It was a cowardly response, but it was all I had. _

_She smiled indulgently, sadness filling her eyes at hearing my practiced speech—again. "Your lifestyle is what you make it, Ranger. If you wanted to change things, you would."_

_"__What we have right now is all I have to offer." Every time I reminded her of the boundaries of our 'relationship' I lost a little more of myself. But my pain was nothing compared to what I saw in her eyes. I just didn't know if it was because she loved me or if it was because she felt rejected. _

_While I was still trying to figure that out, she placed both her hands on each side of my face, pulled me close, and kissed the hell out of me. I groaned, and pulled her body flush with mine, wondering what made her give in. I never thought she'd settle for what I could give her… but maybe this was enough for her. Just when I was ready to move her toward the bedroom, she reluctantly pulled her body away, her lips the last to leave mine. _

_"__You have to do what's right for you, Ranger." She smiled regretfully, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "If friendship is all you can offer, I'll take it. But only friendship," she clarified and swallowed heavily. "The kind of friendship where we keep our clothes on."_

_The pain and sadness emanating from her, hit me like buck shot from a 20 gauge. She was finally standing up for herself and drawing a line. I knew this day would come, but I was an opportunist after all, and I'd take what she was willing to give, for as long as I could. _

A new window popped up on the computer screen, alerting Ranger that the surveillance footage had come to an end. He rubbed his eyes while he tried to shake himself out of the melancholy of his memories. Since his mind had wondered, he had to rewind the video back the beginning. This time he was going to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn't help wondering if Hector was right. Would she be missing right now if he'd been brave enough to grab onto what he wanted?


	11. Chapter 11

**WARNING: This chapter contains VERY graphic non-consensual contact that some readers may find tough to read. To me, it's an essential part of the story, but those who have issues with this subject matter may choose to skip the sections I've marked. I've posted a warning alert right before the disturbing scene and again right after. You can always message me for spoilers. Also, to those who don't enjoy the violence and wish for me to move on from the cellar scenes, try and bear in mind that they serve a purpose and won't last much longer. I've also decided to post Chapters 11-14 all at one time in order to keep the angst down and not to draw things out. **

**CHAPTER 11 **

**Grin and Bear It**

As the days dragged by, I doubted more and more that anyone was going to find me. I barely even noticed my stomach growling anymore because it was such a frequent occurrence. It wouldn't have mattered anyway since I was out of food. To keep my mind off my hunger pains and the mangled state of my back, I thought about Joe's proposal, and mentally kicked myself for not giving him an answer.

I couldn't remember a time when I didn't love him. Sure, we had history—some good and a lot bad—but we'd overcome all that and I was ready to make a permanent commitment. The only reason I'd asked for time was so I could tie up that one loose end with Ranger. But as it turned out, there wasn't a loose end to tie—there never had been.

Oh, I had no doubt Ranger cared for me, he probably even loved me in some way, but I also knew he didn't want a committed relationship. He wanted an uncomplicated personal life involving nothing deeper than great sex, and I didn't want to waste my life hoping for something more when there wasn't a chance I could have it. My brain knew all those things, but my heart needed to hear him say the words before I could truly give up on the idea of a future for us. It would ruin our friendship if I let it go on any longer.

Unfortunately, the words he used to—firmly—but gently let me down, were now permanently etched on my heart. Hearing him say them was worse than anything Durant could ever do to me. Just thinking about that moment brought all that pain to the surface, and soon I was crying myself to sleep.

"He's coming." A feminine voice floated across the air in a whisper, urgently nudging me awake.

My eyes popped open, quickly darting around to see where the voice was coming from. I expected to see someone standing nearby with the door open and ready to walk me to freedom, but there was no one there. Well, that wasn't true. The eight women were still there, staring at me while I'd slept. My eyes traveled down the line of cases, trying to figure out which one had spoken. When I realized how absurd I was being, I shook my head at my stupidity. I was acting crazy. No one was talking to me. I was all alone… well, that is if you didn't count the dead women.

As soon as I settled back down to rest, I heard the whispered voice again. "He's back." I jerked my head toward the sound, studying the women. Before I could figure out what their game was, I heard metal scratching sounds at the door and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. I knew what was going to happen and I couldn't go through it again. Knowing I didn't have a choice, I sat up as quickly as I could under the circumstances and shrugged the blanket off. Chill bumps covered my skin as the cold air hit me, but I couldn't worry about that right now.

He came through the door and closed it behind him, smiling when he noticed I had obediently shed the blanket before he came in. I perked up when I caught a whiff of the wonderful aroma coming from the ubiquitous box he carried. He raised one eyebrow, taunting me. "Are you hungry?" he asked. It was a ridiculous question. He knew full well I was starving. I nodded. My mouth was parched, and it hurt to speak. He pressed his lips tightly together. "Didn't I tell you to use your words?"

I managed to make a dry, raspy sound that resembled a yes. As a reward, he reached into the box and extracted a bottle of water, handing it to me. I drank greedily, draining the bottle in seconds. My shoulders slumped when I realized I might have stupidly guzzled all the water I would get for the day. He turned and walked toward the table, pulling a bag of tacos out of the box along with a two more bottles of water. I wanted to weep at the sight. Without turning to me, he asked, "Are you waiting for an invitation?"

Immediately, I got to my feet and made my way to the table. While we ate, he didn't bother making tiresome conversation which was fine with me because the only things I had to say to him would get me killed. The tacos were so good; I wanted to take my time—to draw the meal out—anything to delay the inevitable. I kept my eyes on him throughout the meal, watching for some weakness I could exploit, but all too soon, he was finished and motioned for me to finish up as well. He put everything away and pushed the table back against the wall. He stood in front of me and nodded his head toward the women. "Get into position."

The taco's turned to lead in my stomach and my mind started racing, trying to come up with some reason to convince him not to do this to me again. I looked up at him and did the only thing I could think of. "I love you," I blurted and then internally cringed. I couldn't believe I'd said it. My chest heaved as I waited to see if he believed me.

His eyes narrowed as he studied me. "You love me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes… I do." I nodded for emphasis.

He held his hand out to me. "Come to me." He made no effort to step back as I stood on frightened legs, our torso's touching. He reached out and ran his hand down the side of my face and it took everything in me not to flinch away. "Are you offering yourself to me?"

I couldn't speak so I nodded and tried for a smile that came out wobbly and sick. He wasted no time leaning in to place his lips on mine. I held perfectly still, hoping I could do this, but he must have felt my revulsion because he pulled back and stared down his nose at me with narrowed eyes. My mind raced, thinking what I should do to convince him I had feelings for him. I was ready to do anything to get out of another beating. As if he read my mind and knew I was only pretending, he shook his head and pulled me to the center of the room. "I wish you were ready, but you're not. Maybe in time—"

My pathetic attempt hadn't fooled him. The only thing I'd accomplished was prolonging what he had planned today, but I could minimize the number of times he struck me, that is if my memory didn't fail me. I'd spent every waking moment reviewing the women's stories and knew I could do a better job this time, but I wasn't kidding myself. No way could I recite the stories with one hundred percent accuracy. While I quickly ran through the stories in my mind one last time, he stepped close to my back, chin resting on my shoulder as he surveyed the women. He'd already taken his belt off and was idly swinging it as if already anticipating my mistakes.

I greeted each woman and recited their stories. By the time I finished I was on my hands and knees, tears rolling down my face. I'd received nine lashes, and my back was blazing. He came around to stand in front of me. "That was better, but still not good enough."

I swiped my hand across the snot running from my nose and looked up, wishing I could knock the smirk off his face. Once again, he took my arm, barely giving me time to rise on my own before he hauled me up and led me to the bed, pushing me down onto my stomach. I faced the wall while he retrieved the ointment and started rubbing the back of my neck traveling down my thighs. The lower he got the more nervous I became. When his hand grazed over my butt cheeks, I crossed my feet at the ankles, locking them tight to keep him out of my personal area. He stilled for a moment and then continued massaging one cheek and then the other until his fingers trailed down the crack of my ass.

**BEGIN WARNING: Non-consensual acts. **

He breathed a sigh of frustration and gripped my thighs, trying to force them apart. "Separate your legs," he ordered, but I only clenched them harder. My entire body jerked in shock when his hand smacked my already inflamed ass cheek. Pain flashed through me, searing my skin and my ankles unintentionally came apart. Before I could comprehend what was happening, his fingers were between my cheeks, rubbing over my puckered hole. I tensed, clamping my butt cheeks together and scrambled to re-cross my ankles. "Leave them open." His tone was harsh, and I knew he meant business.

I hated being held down against my will. I wanted to do something to stop him. I was so angry, my chest was heaving as I sobbed into the mattress, breathing in the same hot air I'd just exhaled. My instincts were screaming at me to fight—to cross my legs again—but I couldn't endure another hit. I just couldn't.

He carried on as if he wasn't destroying every part of me. His finger circled my forbidden hole as he leaned over me, blowing his breath across the back of my neck, and whispered, "Have you ever had a man here?"

My brain scrambled, trying to determine what he wanted to hear. If I told him the truth, that I hadn't, then he might get aroused at the thought of being first. If I told him that I had, maybe he'd be disgusted with me and leave me alone. I didn't know the right answer, so I stayed silent.

"Tsk-tsk," he admonished in a sing song voice. "You should be ashamed of yourself." He moved his finger further down to my other opening. "What about here?" His voice had gotten huskier as he dipped the tip of his finger inside. "Have you ever had a man here?"

My heart was racing. I didn't want to give him a reason to kill me, but he had to know a woman my age wouldn't be a virgin. When I didn't respond, he exhaled loudly and jammed his finger deep inside. "You should have saved yourself for me."

I winced at the sudden intrusion and pressed my face harder into the mattress, smothering my scream. I wanted him to stop, but I didn't know how to get through to him. Should I appeal to his conscience? Did he even have one?

"Women don't save themselves for marriage anymore," he complained as he withdrew his thick finger and shoved in deeper. I grunted as he twisted it around and started pumping in and out. "All of my wives were promiscuous before I met them." He rammed a second finger inside, and I stifled a sob at the sting of this fingernail slicing my delicate tissue. "Except for Jenny." He slowed down his assault as if he was reliving a fond memory. "She saved herself for me and I felt so lucky that we could lose our virginity to each other. That's why she'll always be special to me. A guy never forgets his first," he proudly proclaimed. I swallowed heavily, trying hard not to imagine a trembling young Jenny, having to endure what this monster did to her.

I winced when he suddenly pulled his fingers out of me and flipped me over with no regard for my sore back. "I want to see your face." The impact of my back hitting the bed had my vision darkening and I screamed one long continual howl that I didn't think would ever end. Several minutes went by before the pain lessened enough that my sight returned. When it did, his face was so close, I could count the lashes surrounding his blue eyes. For a strange moment, I was mystified that such outward beauty could hide the infection that was growing inside him.

I clenched my legs together and started to shake, fearing what he was going to do to me now. He dug his knee between my thighs, leaving bruises as he pried them apart. When he had them spread far enough for him sit between my legs, he sat back on his heels, examining me intimately. "Don't move. I want you to stay just like this."

_I hate you—I hate you—I hate you._ I shut my eyes and screamed over and over in my head.

I felt him lean over me, bracing his weight on his left arm while running the finger of his right hand down my jaw to my neck, stopping on the delicate bone at the base of my throat. "Did I tell you that Emmie spends hours brushing her beloved dolls' hair and making them do whatever she wants." I swallowed heavily but didn't open my eyes. "You're **MY** special doll," he said softly as his lips skimmed the side of my mouth, giving me a lingering kiss. I couldn't help the whimper that escaped as I turned my face away from his touch.

With the same finger he'd just had inside me, he turned my face back to him. "I get to play with you any way I want, and right now I want you to teach me how to please you." I could feel his breath on my face, so close, but I didn't open my eyes. I couldn't watch him do this to me. His finger started traveling down my body, over my breasts to my mound and between my slit. I could feel him watching my reactions as he hesitated at my opening. I turned away again and dug my heels into the mattress, only managing to scoot an inch or so before he slid his finger inside.

He leaned down, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucked at the same time he worked his fingers inside me. "Tell me you love me," he whispered in a husky voice.

At first, I didn't respond, but he continued his assault and I thought maybe I could get him to stop if I explained how I wasn't ready for anything physical. "I… "

He stopped what he was doing and waited for me to say more. When I didn't, he added a second finger and started pumping harder. "Tell me."

"I love… " I let out a broken sob. "You." I finished the rest on a strangled exhale, hoping it was enough to convince him.

His eyes lit up and I wanted to die. "Say it again." He added a third finger. I bit my lip and held my breath. "And look at me when you say it."

Giving in was my only option… even if I was compromising my dignity in the process. I slowly turned back to him and forced my eyes open. "I… love… you… " I said in between broken sobs.

He let out a satisfied sigh. "Now kiss me," he demanded.

I sobbed harder as his lips descended, and tears streamed out of the corners of my eyes, down the side of my face, landing on the mattress. "I do love you, but I… I'm not… ready… yet. I need more… time." I didn't think that was going to be enough for him to leave me alone, but maybe if I begged. "Please."

He sat up and I thought I'd gotten through to him, but then I heard the sound of his zipper. I started screaming and thrashing. "Nooo. No. No. No." I screamed it over and over again, hysterically thrashing about.

"Be still." He slapped me across the face, knocking my teeth together.

I was momentarily stunned.

I had to blink my eyes several times to clear my vision. And when I did, I saw him pulling his flaccid penis out of his pants. My blood caught fire and every self-protective instinct I had kicked in. I screamed. I thrashed. I kicked. I snapped my teeth at him, ready to bite anything that came near me, but my chains kept me from doing _him_ any damage.

He took his finger, still wet from being inside my body, and rubbed around the head of his penis. I expected him to grow hard, and so did he, but when he realized nothing was happening, his face turned red and he started breathing harder out of frustration. He shoved off the bed, buttoning up his pants as he walked around the room, gathering his things to leave. On his way out the door, he stopped beside my bed, sneering down at me as if it was my fault he couldn't get hard. Then he threw the paper bag and water onto the bed and left without looking back.

**END WARNING**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

**Leave No Stone Unturned**

It was strictly prohibited for anyone but employees to roam around Ranger's building, which is why he limited meetings with clients and any of the alphabet agencies to the first-floor conference rooms only. This morning's meeting was taking place in Conference room A, just past reception. It was their largest and most impressively decorated meeting room. It boasted a sleek modern style with a long black lacquered table down the center of the room, easily seating fourteen. Ranger was seated in his preferred seat at the head of the table, facing the door as usual. Emilio Esparza, Rangeman Miami's second in command sat immediately to his right, with Silvio who was also on loan from Miami next to him. Gino, Ram, Roy, and Hector finished the right side of the table, leaving Tank at the end with his back to the door. Sitting immediately on Ranger's left was, Lester, Cal, Vince, and Bobby.

Ranger looked up as Hal opened the door and led Morelli inside. He gave Morelli a quick once over, and determined he looked like shit. He had bags under his eyes, and his clothes were hanging loosely on his body. Truth be told, Ranger didn't look much better. Stephanie had now been missing for twelve days, and her absence was taking its toll on both men.

"We've been working this case hard for five days now and I'm out of places to look," Morelli said as he and Hal took the remaining two seats at the table. His statement wasn't news to anyone. They all felt the same way—frustrated and helpless. "The trail's gone cold and starting today, the other detectives working the case have been reassigned. I threatened to quit if the captain even thought about asking me to stand down. But because of Stephanie's high visibility as a bounty hunter and the fact that many of her skips cross state lines to evade capture, my captain thinks it's time to bring in the feds."

This wasn't a surprise to Ranger or any of his men. Bringing in the feds was the next logical step, but Ranger was worried the feds would want to take control and he couldn't let that happen. He knew he was the best person to head up the investigation because he would never give up on finding Stephanie. Not to mention the fact that the feds had to play by the rules and would most likely get in his way. At the same time, he couldn't deny that they had more resources at their disposal than he did and if he was going to find her, he would need access to every one of them. So, for that reason alone, he was going to agree. "Make the call," Ranger said and turned his attention to Tank, ready to get this meeting started.

Morelli tensed and sat very still, letting his body language speak for him as he glared at Ranger. He wasn't one of his hired thugs and he wasn't about to jump just because Ranger issued an order. Ranger realized Morelli wasn't moving and looked up. They were in a stare off for a few moments, until Morelli felt like he'd made his point clear to Ranger and his men. He finally got to his feet, excused himself and went out into the hall to make his call.

During the tense exchange, the rest of the men pretended to be invisible, thinking that even under the best of circumstances Morelli was stupid to pull the tiger's tail, and these were far from the best of circumstances. They all knew that once Ranger issued an order, you moved on it and you didn't ask questions.

Ranger almost rolled his eyes at Morelli's adolescent display of stubbornness, but as soon as the urge hit him, he was struck with a longing so great he wasn't sure he could speak. Stephanie was always rolling her eyes. He'd seen her do it hundreds of times. What if he never saw her do it again? He'd taken their time together for granted. A sudden urge to hit something came over him, but he had to push his anger aside and carry on with the meeting. He looked across the table at Tank. "What have you gotten from her skips?"

Tank gave a quick shake of his head, hating that he didn't have better news. "We've interviewed and corroborated alibis for all of her skips except for forty-seven of them. We're still trying to locate those individuals, but we're going to need more time."

"Time is what we don't have," Ranger said, not taking his eyes off Tank as the conference room door swung open and Morelli strode back inside, taking his seat. "If you need more men, take Snake and Junior, but keep on it." Tank gave a small nod and Ranger turned his attention to Morelli, curious to see what news his phone call produced.

"Two federal agents will meet us at the Plum's home in one hour," Morelli said, keeping the information concise.

Ranger checked his watch. They had enough time to finish the meeting and get over there. He focused his attention back on Morelli. "Have you checked all of your known enemies or anyone else who could be interested in seeking revenge against you?"

Morelli was sure he didn't have as many enemies as Ranger probably did, but he had managed to make a few over the years. "Nothing promising on my end."

"Same here," Ranger said before he turned to Lester. "What's the word on the street?"

Lester sat forward, frowning. "People are talking about her being missing, but no one knows anything." He sighed. "We have every available man working their contacts, but so far, no one's seen her since she left the mall."

"What about the tip line?" Ranger had set it up within hours of finding out she was missing. At first, he'd offered $500,000 and then he quickly upped it to $1,000,000. He was hoping to create a buzz and get everyone talking about her. He also didn't add the usual jargon that limited the collection of the reward to only those leads that led to her return. He was willing to pay for any credible leads. He was convinced that kind of money would make anyone talk.

"We've had a constant stream of calls, but so far, none of the tips have panned out." Lester shook his head, angry at the lengths people would go to for a quick buck. "There's also been no one matching her description admitted to any hospital or morgue within a five-hundred-mile radius."

"Widen the search area," Ranger ordered and then turned to Hector. "What have you found?"

"She hasn't logged into any of her bank, credit, or social media accounts." Hector let that sink in for a moment and then continued. "She didn't leave by cab, car rental, ride share, bus, or airport within a hundred-mile radius of Trenton." Hector made sure to gauge Ranger's reaction to his next words. "Her passport was in her apartment and the last time it was stamped was when she re-entered the U.S. from Cuba on December 20." It was quick, but Hector caught the micro expression of shock that flashed across Ranger's face.

It took a lot to shock Ranger these days, but Hector had managed to do it. He was aware that Stephanie had gone out of town with Morelli a few days before Christmas, but he hadn't known they'd gone to Cuba. Ranger's heritage was important to him and knowing she'd visited his ancestral homeland with Morelli and experienced his culture felt like a betrayal. Unfair as it was, that was how he felt.

It was true what Morelli had told Steph. He really had dreamed of diving off the coast of Cuba, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn't taken perverse pleasure in proposing to Stephanie in the equivalent of Ranger's backyard. He held in his smile while he gave Ranger a moment to digest this news and then he spoke. "I didn't detect anyone tailing us or paying us any undue attention while we were there."

Ranger heard Morelli speaking, but he couldn't look at him. If he did, he might come across the table and squeeze the life out of him. Falling back on his training, he got his head back in the game. "Widen the net," he told Hector. "Make it a five-hundred-mile radius, and if you don't find anything, keep expanding." He stood up from the table, giving each man a hard look that demanded results. They all knew that time was working against them, and each minute without results was another strike against them. Morelli left first, escorted by Hal, and the rest of the men followed.

Exactly one hour after Morelli made the call to his captain, Ranger pulled his Porsche up to the curb in front of the Plum's house and he and Tank got out. Lester and Hector pulled in behind them and Bobby and Vince parked behind them. Mrs. Plum's car and Mr. Plums cab, along with Morelli's SUV, and a black government issued SUV were already parked in the driveway.

A man and a woman, around Ranger's age were just exiting the black SUV as Ranger and Tank started up the driveway. They both wore the requisite dark suits indicating they were the federal agents. The male agent took in Ranger and Tank, immediately tagging Ranger as the one in charge. He closed the distance with his hand out. "I'm Special Agent Barry Hobbs." Ranger gripped the shorter man's baby soft palm in his own firm grip as he took him in from head to toe. His sandy blonde hair was clipped close to his head, spiking up in a trendy style, but it was his cocky swagger that established him, in Ranger's opinion, as a 'Pretty Boy.'

The woman beside Agent Hobbs smiled warmly, with all the beauty of the classic girl next door. "Special Agent Piper Kinkade." She stepped forward, golden blonde hair brushing her shoulders, and gave his hand a firm shake. "And you must be Mr. Manoso." He appreciated that she made eye contact with him instead of blatantly assessing his body with the intent of eliciting a sexual reaction from him like most women did. That said a lot about her character, and he decided having the feds on the team might not be a waste of time after all.

After the introductions were over, Ranger led the way to the Plum's front porch where Morelli stood holding the screen door open for everyone to file inside. They were ushered straight into the dining room where Helen had the contents of her purse strewn out on the dining room table. Frank rose from his chair, holding his hand out as he addressed the agents. "Thank you for coming. I'm Frank and this is my wife Helen. We're Stephanie's parents."

"I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances," Agent Kinkade said as she introduced herself and Agent Hobbs to the Plum's and shook their hands.

Frank took his seat at the head of the table with Morelli on his right, and Helen and the two agents on his left. Ranger and the rest of the Rangemen chose to stand. Before anyone else could speak, Frank divulged a piece of information that would leave everyone in the room stunned. "My wife thinks she may have met the man who abducted Stephanie."

As if in unison, everyone seemed to draw back in surprise. Ranger had been standing with his arms crossed, thinking this meeting was simply a formality and wouldn't yield any new leads. He'd personally interviewed Stephanie's parents and they didn't know anything. After hearing this revelation, he stepped forward, leaning toward Mrs. Plum. "Explain!" he barked.

Helen's eyes widened in alarm and she gasped. She automatically slid closer to Frank and he put his hand on her knee to ease her distress while giving Ranger a disapproving look. Ranger hadn't meant to come across as harsh as he did but hearing Stephanie's own mother say she'd had information all along that could have saved her and she hadn't reported it, sent his anger into overdrive.

"My wife only just now made the connection." Frank tried to smooth everyone's ruffled feathers. "And there's a chance she could be wrong."

After hearing their explanation, Ranger relaxed his rigid stance and stepped closer to the Helen, softening his voice. "Start from the beginning and tell me everything you know. Don't leave anything out."

Agent Hobbs scowled at this Manoso character's impudence. How dare he try to insert himself as the lead of his investigation. He'd heard rumors of how Manoso skirted the law and was basically a gun for hire, but this was his first time he'd had any dealings with the man himself. It looked like it was up to him to set Manoso straight on how things were done when HE ran an investigation. Helen was so caught up in Ranger's magnetic gaze that she physically jumped when Agent Hobbs turned in his seat and placed his hand on her shoulder, addressing her. "Mrs. Plum." He smiled benevolently as she turned her focus from Ranger to him. "Can I call you Helen?"

She nodded, wide eyed, and scared, completely taken in by his charm. Ranger was struck by how slick this guy was. Every instinct told him something was off about the agent, but he couldn't put his finger on anything specific. He only knew that if Hobbs didn't learn his place in the pecking order, he was going to sideline him permanently.

Agent Hobbs wasn't letting any grass grow under his feet. With all the authority he could muster, he asserted himself as the leader. "Let's take this one step at a time, shall we?" He took Helen's hand in his, keeping his pearly whites on display. "Now, why don't you tell me about the last time you talked to your daughter?"

"I… ," she stammered, drawing a complete blank. Everyone wanted all this information from her and right now, she was so flustered she wasn't sure which end was up. "I already told the police everything about that."

Ranger nearly groaned at Agent Hobbs incompetence. He wasn't interested in covering old ground, at least not right now. What he wanted to know was why Mrs. Plum believed she met the man who abducted Stephanie. He crouched beside her, gathered his mental fortitude, and tried to refocus Helen on this new information. "Let's focus on your encounter with this man. Tell me everything you remember."

Helen pulled her hand out of Agent Hobbs' grasp and gave Ranger a nod, indicating she was going to do the best she could. "It was a few days before Christmas. I was at Giovincini's Deli when he approached me." She paused, letting her eyes become unfocused as if replaying the event in her mind. "He called me by name, like he knew me, and when I didn't immediately act as though I remembered him, he seemed to be insulted. Before I could ask for his name, he introduced himself as Darren Santori. At the time, I chalked it up to my faulty memory, but now I'm sure I've never heard the name before."

A beeping noise interrupted Helen's story, and everyone's attention swiveled in the direction of the sound. Morelli grimaced, annoyed that the interruption was coming from his own phone. He pulled it out of his back pocket and glanced at the readout, quickly declining the call. "Sorry," he said, and everyone focused back on Mrs. Plum.

"The man said he'd gone to high school with Stephanie," Helen continued. "He asked what she'd been up to these last few years and if I thought she'd want to get to together to reminisce." She lowered her head, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. "I told him that Stephanie was out of town with Joseph." Agent Kinkade pulled her chair closer, placing her hand over Helen's in an attempt to calm her. "He seemed like a nice boy," Helen wailed. "I… I didn't think I was doing anything wrong telling him Stephanie was out of town."

Everyone sensed that Agent Kinkade was handling Helen's emotional turmoil much better than they could, so they were glad when she took over the questioning. "Can you tell us what he looked like?"

Helen's eyes became unfocused as she sifted through her memory. "He was white," she said. "And I remember thinking he might be on his lunch break because he was wearing an expensive looking suit and watch. He said he'd been working out of town for the last few years and decided to come back home. I guess, he seemed lonely, I… " She looked at Frank, and then buried her face in her hands, shoulders slumped. "I invited him to dinner," she sobbed.

Frank barely resisted the urge to yell at his wife for her latest attempt to get Stephanie married off. After the last bozo she'd invited to dinner, Stephanie had threatened to stop coming anymore if she couldn't be sure she wasn't being set up on a date. Helen hadn't liked it, but she agreed to lay off. He was going to have to have another talk with her, but then he realized if Stephanie was never found, there wouldn't be a point in having a talk at all. That sent him into a panic and the pain in his chest grew worse. It was something that had been happening every now and then, but he was afraid to get it checked out. Helen looked up at him with eyes full of tears. "I know I promised her I wouldn't set her up on anymore dates, not after that Dave Brewer character, but this young man seemed so nice."

The pain in Frank's chest eased off and he rubbed Helen's shoulder. "We'll talk about it later."

Ranger didn't want to waste time soothing Mrs. Plum's nerves. He needed answers and he needed them now. "Were you able to see what kind of car he drove?"

Helen sniffed and shook her head.

"I'm confused." Agent Hobbs inserted himself back into the conversation. "Why were you trying to set your daughter up on dates?" He looked back and forth between Ranger and Morelli, adopting a look of innocence. "Doesn't she already have two boyfriends?"

Several things happened at once, least of which was the masculine growls that erupted from various spots around the room. Ranger and Hector each stepped closer, holding their bodies rigid, daring Hobbs to say just one more word, and at the same time, Morelli rose from his chair, placing his palms on the table, glaring daggers at the man.

Helen ignored the flaring testosterone in the room as she turned to Agent Kinkade, hoping another female would be more supportive. "Right before he left, he gave me his number, but I got busy with the holidays… and then my baby was gone." She sobbed into the agent's shoulder for a few minutes and then pulled away to pick up a tissue from the contents of her purse still strewn on the table. After she blew her nose, she said, "I didn't think about him again until I was going through my purse today, changing it over to the one my granddaughter gave me for Christmas. That's when I found his number." She pointed at the ratty envelope lying on the table.

As Agent Hobbs pulled an evidence bag from his suit pocket, Morelli's phone beeped again. This time, the only one who bothered to glance Morelli's way was Hector and he didn't miss the flash of annoyance that crossed Morelli's face as he looked at the read out on his phone. Instead of ignoring the call like last time, he switched his phone off. _Interesting,_ Hector thought.

Before Agent Hobbs bagged the envelope, Ranger was able to read the phone number and commit it to memory. "We'll run this for prints," Agent Hobbs said in an impersonal tone, completely unaffected by Helen's grief. "But nothing you've said has convinced me the man you talked with in the deli is responsible for kidnapping your daughter, if she was even kidnapped, which is still to be determined."

Everyone in the room looked at Agent Hobbs as if he was too dumb to get in out of the rain. Of course, Stephanie was kidnapped, and they were all sure this was the man who'd kidnapped her. Ranger had a sudden thought, afraid that the Plum's might have alerted the kidnapper that they were on to him. "Have either of you called this number?"

"No," Frank assured him. "If this was the man who took her, we didn't want to tip him off."

"You did the right thing," Ranger said, relieved they hadn't screwed up the lead.

Agent Hobbs cleared his throat, making sure he had everyone's attention before he got to his feet, making himself ready to leave. "We'll be in touch if we have any more questions," he said to the Plum's and started for the front door. He expected Agent Kinkade to follow and everyone else to disperse now that he'd concluded the meeting.

Ranger was relieved to see the jack ass go. After the way he spoke about Stephanie, he was lucky to be walking out of here on his own two legs. There was a cell in the basement of Rangeman that would suit Agent Hobbs just fine. Ranger stepped closer to the table, examining the contents of Helen's purse. "Did he touch anything else?"

Helen immediately started shaking her head no, but then she stopped and stared for a moment, the scene playing in her mind. Her eyes widened and she reached out, rummaging amongst the items lying on the table until her fingers landed on an ink pen. "Here," she said, shoving the pen at Ranger like it might hold the address of her daughter. "He borrowed this pen to write his number. You can get his prints from this, can't you?"

Rangers heart started to race, but you wouldn't know it from looking at him. "It's possible," he hedged, not wanting to give her false hope, but having something the man touched without gloves was like receiving a gift.

When Hobbs realized no one was following, he turned back just in time to see Agent Kinkade place an ink pen in an evidence bag. He was insulted that no one had listened to him, but instead of waiting outside like an outcast, he hovered near the doorway of the dining room, impatiently tapping his foot.

"It's been twelve days, Frank, what if we never get her back? What if… what if he's killed her?" Helen sobbed into Frank's chest. "I invited him to dinner, and he might be hurting our little girl right this second. Why?" She wailed louder until she was bordering on hysteria.

Ranger needed her to get it together because he didn't have time to let her indulge in a breakdown. "Mrs. Plum, do you think you could sit with an artist and describe this man?"

"I can try," she said and then hiccupped.

He and Tank shared a look, silently communicating his orders and the big man left the room. While he was gone, Ranger pulled Agent Hobbs' vacated chair closer to Helen, and sat. "Think very hard, Mrs. Plum. What color hair did this man have? How much did he weigh? How tall was he? Anything you can remember will be helpful."

She straightened her back and kept her hands in her lap. "Well, let's see. He had brown hair, curly like Stephanie's, and it was combed back off his face. He was a nice-looking young man—attractive—I guess. He was around Stephanie's age, and he was tall—muscular—you know? Not as big as you." She gestured with her hand to Ranger. "But maybe more like this young man." She pointed to Lester, standing against the wall.

Ranger nodded encouragingly. "Can you remember the exact day and time you were in the deli?"

"Let's see." She looked to the ceiling, remembering. "It was the Wednesday before Christmas. I remember because I had to drop Mother off at the Bingo tournament at the VFW." She looked at Morelli. "You and Stephanie were out of town."

"That was December 19." Morelli sat forward and turned his phone back on to place a call to the station. "I'll pull every surveillance and traffic camera in the area and see if we can get a visual of this guy."

Ranger gave Hector a barely visible nod, letting him know to use his own abilities to get all available footage from private residences, and business in and around the deli. Just like Tank, Hector didn't need words to communicate Ranger's wishes. If there was a camera pointed anywhere at this guy, he'd find it.

After hearing Helen's interaction with this stranger, it made Morelli question some recent comments made by his neighbor. "This may be a long shot, but I think that man might have been in my house while Stephanie and I were in Cuba."

"What makes you think that?" Ranger asked.

"A couple days ago, I was talking with my neighbor, Mr. Gorvich. He made a comment that I didn't understand at the time. He said my cousin Mooch looked a lot healthier since he'd lost so much weight."

"And—" Ranger said, wanting him to get on with it.

"And Mooch hasn't lost a pound. He's been hovering around two fifty for years." Morelli pulled out his phone and called Mr. Gorvich. He didn't waste any time getting to the point. "The man you saw entering my house, what did he look like?" As Morelli listened, his complexion turned the color of paste, and his eyes grew darker. "Are you sure he used the back door?" Morelli asked.

He ended the call with his neighbor and placed another. "Mooch, while I was away on assignment and you came by to feed Bob, did you ever enter or exit through the back door?" Morelli paused to listen to his answer. "I know you don't have a key to the backdoor," he said. "Thanks man."

He disconnected the call and looked from Ranger to Hector. "Mr. Gorvich observed a man wearing a blue ball cap, jeans, and dark hoodie, entering my home through the back door. Mooch always uses the front because he doesn't have a key to the backdoor."

Ranger was buzzing with excitement. In less than an hour, they had two credible leads to follow. "Do you have any surveillance on your house?" Ranger asked Morelli. He was sure he didn't, but he could have installed something recently.

"No, but Mr. Gorvich and Mrs. Lukach do. We may be able to pick Stephanie's abductor up on those."

Ranger focused back on Helen. "You said this guy was asking questions about Stephanie?" She nodded. "What sort of questions did he ask?"

"He asked if she was married and I told him no. Then when I told him she was out of town, he asked if she was away on business." Her eyes moved from Ranger to Morelli, and then as if a light bulb went off in her head, she gasped, and her mouth fell open in horror as she turned to her husband. "Now that I think about it, he was fishing for information. I'm sure of it. She was gone and he didn't know where she went. He was using me to find her so he could hurt our little girl, Frank." She broke down into a sobbing mess.

Both Morelli and Frank were doing their best to console Helen, but it wasn't working. Suddenly, she swatted Morelli's hands off her, and lashed out. "Why couldn't you just marry her? If you had, she'd be safe." Morelli had a blank face to rival Ranger's, but his guilt was hard to cover. Ranger knew how it felt. If he'd offered her something more, she might be safely ensconced in his seventh-floor apartment this very minute. There was plenty of guilt to go around.

A few minutes later, the sketch artist arrived and was able to coax a rendering from Helen. It wasn't heavily detailed; in fact, it could have been just about any male off the street. But it was all they had, and they were going to run with it. The likeness was going to be released to the newspapers and TV news outlets as a person of interest in the abduction of Stephanie Plum. Ranger felt better than he had in days. Today had been productive. It would have been better if Mrs. Plum found the number earlier, but at least now they had leads to follow.

* * *

Tank motioned for Lester to follow him out onto the Plum's front porch where he handed him the artist's rendering. "Make copies of this and get them distributed all over town. I want every public building displaying one of these in their front windows and I want to see one of these at every intersection and on every telephone pole ASAP." Tank went back inside, passing Hector in the doorway.

Lester and Hector stood on the porch for a minute looking at the sketch. "That was a productive meeting, hermano (brother)," Lester said. "We now have this sketch, a phone number that may be traceable, possible prints and DNA, and a new point of focus for surveillance footage." He sighed with the weight of the task ahead. "I just hope it's enough to find her before it's too late."

That was Hector's hope as well. If he'd listened closer to Stephanie's suspicions of a stalker and not let her discount them so quickly, he might have been able to prevent her abduction. He looked down at his hands, shaking with rage at the thought of her out there at the mercy of that singao (mother fucker). He clenched his hands into fists, trying to get control of his emotions. His rage gave way to grief when he remembered their last conversation. It was Christmas Eve and he'd come by to pick her up and take her to la casa de su mamá (his Momma's house) for dinner.

_Without checking the peep hole or asking who was at the door, Stephanie opened it wide. I wanted to scold her but didn't want to ruin the day by making her angry with me. Instead, I followed her into the kitchen and accepted the beer she offered. Leaning against the counter, I asked, "How was your trip?" _

_She took a sip and sat at the table, smiling. "My trip was good. We ended up in Cuba; can you believe that?" she laughed. _

_No. I couldn't believe the cop had the cojones (balls) to take Ranger's woman to his ancestral homeland. He was not going to be happy when he found out about that. _

_"__Joe asked me to marry him," she said, studying me, waiting for my reaction._

_I looked down at her finger, afraid it was already a done deal and they were engaged, or worse they had eloped. I was relieved to find it bare. "Did you say yes?"_

_She shook her head. "I told him I needed to think about it. So, don't tell anyone, please." _

_We quietly enjoyed each other's presence for a while, but in the back of my mind, one question kept nagging at me. "What about the Boss?"_

_She sighed heavily. "Ranger and I aren't together, never have been, and according to our conversation yesterday, we never will be."_

_"__He told you he does not want you?" That had to be wrong. I knew the boss was in love with her… everyone knew it, but her. _

_She shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal, but I saw the pain she tried to hide. "Ranger knows what he's doing. He made it clear that we don't have a future, and I can't wait around for random booty calls." She rolled her eyes and tried to force a smile to cover her pain. _

_I didn't like the picture she painted. I would never let anyone treat her like that, not even Ranger. _

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Lester punched Hector in the shoulder, yanking him back into the present.

Hector grumbled something that Lester couldn't make out and started walking toward their SUV. As he walked, Hector thought more about Mrs. Plum's revelations. He was encouraged by the new leads, and he was also curious about Morelli's phone calls. Or more accurately, his reactions to them. Hector was great at reading people and his gut was telling him the cop was hiding something. He wouldn't be surprised to find out he was keeping a sidepiece stashed away. The last time he ignored his instincts, Stephanie had been kidnapped. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

The first thing he did after Stephanie had told him of the cop's proposal was to tag his car with a GPS tracker, but with everything going on, he hadn't had time to analyze his movements. It was time to rectify that. When Angelita comes home, she will need to be surrounded by people she trusts—and right now—Hector didn't trust Detective Morelli.


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING: This chapter contains VERY graphic non-consensual contact that some readers may find tough to read. To me, it's an essential part of the story, but those who have issues with this subject matter may choose to skip the sections I've marked. I've posted a warning alert right before the disturbing scene and again right after. You can always message me for spoilers. **

**CHAPTER 13**

**Add Insult to Injury**

My back burned hotter than a furnace and my skin was split and bleeding in several places. Even though he applied some kind of ointment after each beating, infection was still a very real threat, especially under these conditions. Over the last few days, he'd visited twice, both times, I recited the women's stories, incurring eight lashes one day and six the other. It didn't matter how much I begged for compassion or restraint, he didn't seem to hear or care.

While he was gone, I dissected everything he did and said, trying to figure out what motivated him. My mind was spinning as I tried to make sense of it all, but I guess that was my problem; I was applying rational thought to a man who was mentally sick. The one thing that stumped me was how he could get an erection when looking at the dead women and not when looking at me—a living breathing woman. Obviously, at some point, he'd been capable of raping Jenny.

I kept coming back to one important event—his twin sister's death. It seemed that every heinous thing he'd done could be traced back to that fateful night. His guilt over what happened was evident. I saw the pain in his eyes and heard it in his voice when he talked about her. There was no doubt in my mind that seeing her emaciated little body had traumatized him. Maybe his brain had gotten so screwed up by that image that it caused him to gravitate towards women who bear a resemblance to what he imagined she'd look like if she'd lived to adulthood, but only after they were half starved like she had been. In a sick way, it made sense, and made me wonder just how emaciated he needed me to be in order for him to become sexually aroused. Keeping someone alive and starving them at the same time was like teetering in the middle of a see saw and required a finely tuned balance. Once a person was dead, then raping them was pointless… unless he was waiting for me to die before raping me. That thought chilled me.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the image. I sounded like a demented therapist grasping at any explanation to try and make sense out of something that defied logic, but I had to admit it did explain a lot. Like why his sexual interest in me was increasing even though my skin had lost its healthy glow and I was losing so much weight my bones were becoming prominent.

I growled in frustration; it started from somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach and slowly built until it was a full-fledged scream. I shouldn't have to lie in this dirty cellar, wracked with pain trying to figure his crazy ass out. I should be home, living my life the way I choose. I needed to get my mind on something good—something that would make me happy—even if it was only for a moment. But I struggled to remember what my life used to look like. I tried recalling various memories, but they all seemed far away, as if they belonged to another woman. Then the memory of lying in bed with Joe on Christmas night floated into my mind. I had my head on his shoulder as he lazily rubbed my arm while we basked in the afterglow of our lovemaking.

_"__Joe?"_

_"__Mmmm," he said, contentedly and before I could say another word, his phone vibrated. "Hold that thought cupcake." He grabbed it off the nightstand and checked the caller ID. His eyes quickly flicked to me and then back to his phone. Was that nervousness? "It's the Chief," he said as he quickly slid his arm out from under my head and got up, ignoring his naked state. "I'm going to let Bob out while I see what he wants." He answered the call as the bedroom door closed behind him. _

_Figuring he'd be gone for a little while, I burrowed under the covers and was just about to nod off when he came back in. I blinked my eyes open, hoping he wasn't going to tell me he had to leave. "What is it? Do you have to go into work?" _

_"__No. Tonight, I'm all yours." He surprised me when he lifted the covers and climbed back into bed with me, nuzzling my neck, but it seemed like he was distracted, and I worried that maybe he'd gotten some bad news. _

_I leaned up on my elbow to get a better view of his face. "Is everything okay?"_

_"__Yeah." He brushed his lips over mine and then deepened the kiss. _

_As his lips moved away from mine, my brain started functioning again, and I remembered what I was going to say before the chief's phone call interrupted me. "So—" I smiled, tracing his nipple, and flicking it playfully. "About that question you asked me when we were in Cuba—" _

_He stilled my wandering fingers and looked into my eyes. "I have to go out of town on assignment in the morning. Can we talk when I get back?"_

_I frowned. "When did this happen?"_

_"__Just now." _

_I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. Now that I'd made my decision, I was ready to move forward. I started to tell him my answer anyway, but he placed his finger over my lips. _

_"__I know you think you're ready, but I don't want you to feel pressured. Think about it while I'm gone. I want you to be sure this is really what you want." _

_"__I don't need any more time, Joe, I know my answer."_

_"__Just humor me." He kissed me, effortlessly making me forget about anything but having him inside me… again. _

_Afterwards, laying contentedly with my head resting on Joe's chest, listening to his slowing heartbeat, I asked what I'd been avoiding. "When will you be back?"_

_"__We're in the process of wrapping this case up, so I'm not sure exactly, but I wouldn't be surprised if it took us until after the New Year." He leaned in for another kiss, but I was too disappointed to continue. _

_I sat up with the sheet covering my breasts. "But you'll miss New Year's Eve." I'd had plans that involved ringing in the New Year with a ring on my finger. _

I rubbed my hand over the pain in my chest. It literally hurt my heart to think of all the time I'd wasted by not accepting Joe's proposal. If I'd known I'd end up in this cellar, I'd have pinned him to the bed, and made him listen to me.

* * *

"Look at what was in the newspaper today," Durant said as he handed the paper to me, sounding way to happy for it to be anything good… for me. I glanced up at him and wanted to wipe the insufferable smirk off his face. Instead, I unfolded the paper and saw his likeness on the front page with the caption that read, **Have You Seen This Man**. Of course, the composite sketch was so generic, I was probably the only one who could tell it was of him. While I read the article and tried to digest this new development, he went over to the sink.

An unnamed witness had reportedly come forward with a description of a man who they were calling a person of interest in my abduction. They were asking for anyone who recognized the man to come forward or call the tip line that had been set up. I couldn't hide my reaction. Excited butterflies started swirling in my stomach. If the police knew about him, that meant they were close to finding me. I looked over at him, expecting to see fear on his face, but he was gazing at himself in the distorted plastic mirror, smoothing his hair back from his face as if he was preening for an adoring audience. His eyes found mine in the reflection. "They failed to capture my spark; don't you think?"

My anger ignited at his flippancy, but I had to know if this was a current paper or not. "Is this today's date—January 11th?"

He turned around, hip leaning on the sink, mouth curved into a wide smile and nodded. "You've been my wife for seventeen days now—just in case you were thinking of getting me something for our anniversary." He was trying to be funny, but I was having a hard time paying attention. All I could do was repeat the number seventeen in my head over and over. I couldn't believe it. It seemed like I'd been gone ten times as long. Where were they? As if he'd read my mind, he said, "You're probably wondering why they haven't found you." He let out a deep breath, and stuck his bottom lip out, mocking my situation with pretend pity. "Looks to me like they're not trying very hard, are they?"

He was wrong. My parents, Joe, and Ranger; they'd never give up searching for me. I had to remember that and somehow do my part to help them, but I had no idea how.

He pulled his chair over to the bed and sat down right in front of me, twisting the cap off a bottle of water. I was so thirsty; I could drink it in one gulp. I licked my lips, eyeing it with such longing. I knew I was suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. Over the last few days, what little urine I produced had gotten darker than usual. I didn't know how long it would take before the effects would be irreversible.

He watched me intently, his lips slightly curling at the corner enjoying the power of life and death in his hands. I tried not to react, but I'm sure he could see the desperation in my eyes as he slowly brought the bottle to his lips and drained it. He sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee and crushed the bottle before carelessly tossing it into the corner. "The newspaper doesn't say who provided the details of the sketch, but I think it was your mother."

Seconds before, I had been consumed by thirst and now it was forgotten. "Please don't hurt her." I begged as I imagined him running into her on the street and stabbing her or mowing her down with his car.

He waited unbearable minutes before speaking. "As long as you do what I want she'll be fine." He studied my face for a few seconds to make sure he'd gotten his point across and then stood to take off his belt. He offered his hand and I slowly got to my feet, knowing what was going to happen to me and that I had no choice. As we walked to the cases, I didn't fight him or entertain thoughts of running—not anymore. He'd made it clear I wasn't the only one he could hurt.

Just like every other time, I started with Jenny, and when I got everything right, I moved on to Sharon and got everything right again. His nostril's flared as his need to wield his weapon grew, but if I had my way, he wouldn't have a reason to strike me today. Ashley was next and I got all her story right as well. He was pacing now, vibrating with unleashed anger. His excuse to whip me was slipping by.

This was the fifth time I'd stood in front of the women reciting information and it was coming easier to me now. In my triumph, I got cocky, and mixed up Andrea's marriage dates with Karen's. I howled and stumbled forward when the line of fire licked across my thighs. The sudden brutality of the strike made me lose my balance and I fell to the floor, already feeling blood dripping from wounds that were never allowed to heal. I curled into a ball, beaten down, mentally and emotionally. I was getting through this moment to moment and wasn't sure how much more I could endure.

He didn't like that I was giving up. He whipped the belt against the floor as he paced—anger spiking and fading like my heartbeat. Finally, he pulled his chair over, and sat staring at me as if I was an errant child. His booted feet were mere inches from my head as my body racked with silent sobs. "If you tried harder, I wouldn't have to discipline you." He leaned forward, pointing at the women. "**They** don't appreciate having their memories tarnished because you fail to listen."

I hated hearing him speak on their behalf as if he was looking out for their best interests. I imagined myself in a similar case and another woman lying on the floor, slowly starving to death like I am now. I swallowed back vomit at the thought of him using me as an excuse to hurt her.

He nudged my side with his boot, prompting me to get up. The small movement made me scream and my tears streamed harder, but I made no effort to move. I was done.

He slid out of his chair, and grabbed hold of the chain, pulling me up by my neck. I sputtered for breath, my face turning red as my feet struggled to bear my weight. When my vision turned black, he let go. "You left off with Andrea," he said calmly.

I managed to stand on my own and finish the recitation. After the belt tore into me for the fourth time today, he threaded it back through the loops and helped me back to the bed. He was back to being solicitous of my pain while I heaved for breath in between sobs. I lay on my stomach, uncaring of what he did. I didn't even startle when the cold ointment dropped on my back. "Let me make it better," he said as he lightly rubbed over my bruises and welts, confusing me with his gentle touch.

**BEGIN WARNING: Non-Censual contact.**

When his hands dipped down to my ass cheeks, I knew where he was taking this. "Please, don't," I barely whispered as I struggled to turn onto my side, curling into a tight ball.

He ran his finger down my side, settling his nail into a partially scabbed over wound pressing until it hurt so badly, I thought I'd scream. "What's the cute little one's name?" he asked in an exceedingly kind voice. "You know—the one who gallops around like a horse?"

Breath left me as promptly as if he'd knocked it out of me.

"I could bring her to you?"

_Fucking bastard._ It was as if he'd flipped a switch inside me. I wanted to hurt him the way he was hurting me. I wanted to threaten him with the most horrific suffering I could imagine, but at this moment he had me over a barrel, so I begged. "Please don't hurt my family."

"That's up to you. Now, are you going to turn over onto your back?"

I couldn't live with myself if he hurt my family. I took an angry breath and turned over, vowing to make the bastard pay for every threat and every strike of his belt.

"I enjoyed touching you before." He spoke gently as his thumb and fingers clamped down on my jaw, turning me to face him. "Today, I want to try something else."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

His eyes sparkled adoringly at me. "You really are beautiful, you know?" He leaned down, taking my lips in a light kiss that made my stomach acid bubble. I tensed, and clamped my lips tightly closed. "Open your mouth." He stabbed his finger into my chest. My mouth opened slightly, letting his slimy tongue sweep inside, and roll around feverishly. I closed my eyes and forced myself not to gag when all I wanted to do was bite his tongue off. But I couldn't retaliate, not if I wanted to protect my family.

He fumbled through the kiss, and began moving his lips down my throat, to my chest, raising his head to give me sheepish looks every few seconds. "I watched a video yesterday, and I want you to help me recreate it."

My entire body stiffened. Throwing a bucket of ice water on me couldn't have affected me more. I knew what kind of video he was talking about, and I wanted no part of it. His mouth was wide open, excited about what he had planned and then it was on my nipple—sucking—first one, then the other. My jaw clenched tight as disgust consumed me and I closed my eyes. I picked at the welts on my thighs, giving myself something painful to focus on.

Sensing I was distancing myself he pinched my nipple. "Look at me."

I winced and opened my eyes only to find him peering at me with puppy dog eyes. He leaned down again, tongue traveling lower, past my belly button, watching me for signs of reactions. I thought I could let him do this, but I was wrong. I couldn't take it another second. "I'm not going to let you do this to me." My back screamed in pain as I struggled to push him off me.

His eye's blazed with anger and I dug my heels into the mattress, trying to scoot away. "I can see you're not going to make this easy." He got up and retrieved something from one of the boxes on the shelf. When he turned around, he had zip ties in his hands. Instant panic had me practically falling off the bed and hastily getting to my feet. Ignoring the searing pain on my back, I stumbled to the other side of the room, chains clanking as my tether slid along the ceiling. There was no way I was letting him tie me down.

He laughed hysterically, holding his stomach, and bending over at the waist to catch his breath. While he tried to quell his amusement over my useless attempt to get away, I cowered against the wall. He finally straightened and sneered. "We can do this on the cold floor in front of your sisters if you want."

I tucked my chin against my chest, heaving for breath, and tried to pretend he wasn't there. He quickly crossed the room and took my hand, holding so tightly I couldn't pull away. He had me and we both knew it. I didn't resist as he dragged me back to the bed. My feigned acceptance of my fate was going to be his downfall. He thought I'd given up—that I was amenable to whatever he had planned—but he was wrong.

He forced me down on my back again and I waited for him to feel confident in my obedience. When he leaned over me, I bit into his neck with all the force my jaw could muster. My teeth clamped down, breaking his skin and blood filled my mouth, running down my chin. For a split second, he was suspended in shock and then he punched the left side of my face, forcing me to release him.

I was temporarily blinded. The pain was too shocking. I hadn't thought beyond my initial attack and didn't know what to do now. When I blinked him back into focus, he was staring down at me in startled outrage, his hand covering the jagged wound to staunch the flow of blood. He was holding his breath, face turning dark red, and I could feel the anger pulsing from him in waves. My mouth was full of his blood. I turned to the side, spitting it on the floor.

He grabbed my collar with his free hand and pulled me up, taking his bloody hand off his wound to punch the right side of my face. My head snapped to the left with more force than last time, knocking me into the block wall. I let out a keening sound as painful bursts of light flashed and then warm liquid dripped into my left eye, causing my vision to blur. I pressed my hand to my head and tried to hold onto my thoughts, but they fluttered around inside my brain, never fully forming. Everything got fuzzy and my eyelids became too heavy to keep open. I blinked repeatedly, and then everything turned dark.

I grunted in protest as my body was being shaken and pulled. As the rocking motion became more insistent, my head felt like it was splitting in two. I was finally able to pry my eyes open and at first, I saw nothing. Then the dark shape of a man materialized, looming over me with something white plastered to his neck. My eyes drifted closed again, surrendering to blissful nothingness.

The next time I came to, I couldn't move my hands or ankles. I was zip tied to the legs of the bed, spread eagle at his mercy. He stood over me, thankfully, still fully clothed, but he had a twisted scowl on his face, watching as I weakly struggled to free myself. He got on his knees, between my legs, and shook his head as if he was disappointed in me for letting him down.

As swift as lightning, his hand slapped my already damaged face and I thought I was going to pass out again. "That's for biting me. Next time you try to hurt me—it'll be worse—much worse."

The sudden motion made me nauseous and I turned my head and I vomited on the mattress. I continued heaving until nothing was left. His face was emotionless as he grabbed my blanket and used it to clean the mess, throwing it to the side when he was done. "I only wanted to give you pleasure, but you keep making me hurt you."

His weight fell on me, heavy and bulky. I didn't have the strength to put up even a token of resistance as he ran his tongue from my belly button down to my mound, spreading me open with his thumbs, and blowing his hot breath on me. "I've never tasted a woman down here before," he said, with all the excitement of a teenage boy getting laid for the first time.

His lips curled when my stomach muscles contracted. "Don't you dare throw up again."

I weaved in and out of consciousness, occasionally catching flashes of him smiling at me, enjoying himself at my expense. Every time I closed my eyes, he smacked my face with his open palm to keep me roused. My head felt huge as I turned it from side to side, trying to clear the fog. I felt his mouth between my legs again, his wet tongue pushing its way inside my folds, licking and sucking, making me want to die.

He leaned back on his heels, panting as he ran his tongue over his lips, tasting me. His eyes lit up and then narrowed in wonder. "It's kind of sweet. Do all women taste the same?"

When I didn't answer, he put his mouth between my legs again and sank his tongue into me as deeply as it could go, stabbing in quick staccatos and then he started using his fingers, frowning in concentration while plunging them in and out of me. Pain flared and tears ran from my eyes, mixing with the blood from the cut on my head, soaking into the mattress.

He continued for several minutes until he finally sat back, fascination replaced with a snarl. "Why aren't you doing it?" he yelled. "This is exactly what the guy in the video did, and she loved it. He made her jerk like she was being electrocuted."

I was in so much pain, I could hear his voice, but I couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

He placed his hand on my injured jaw, forcing me to look at him. "You're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"

The pain of his fingers digging into my bruised jaw caused white lights to flicker across my eyelids, but he didn't care. He pumped his fingers faster and faster with no finesse as I stared sightlessly over his shoulder, my body moving with the force of his hand, but I wasn't present.

I heard him rustling around as he got off the bed, and then my arms and legs were cut free of the zip ties. On instinct, I curled into myself, burrowing close to the wall, and let the darkness swallow me.

**END WARNING: Non-consensual contact.**

When I woke, he was gone, and my head felt like I'd gone a couple dozen rounds with Mike Tyson. The rest of me didn't feel much better. There wasn't a place on me that didn't ache. As soon as I remembered what he did, the tears started, and I was afraid they'd never stop. So many vile things had happened to me in the last seventeen days, I wasn't sure I could go back home even if they found me. I'd never want anyone to know what he'd done to me. Never.

I tried to turn over, to find a more comfortable position, and heard a crunching sound. I didn't have to look to know it was another paper bag with a peanut butter sandwich and bottle of water. At least he hadn't left me to starve. I didn't know if that was a kindness or another punishment. Right now, I wasn't sure if I wanted to live or die.


	14. Chapter 14

**WARNING: This Chapter contains details of violence. **

**CHAPTER 14**

Cheers

"Get up!" A masculine voice boomed from above me.

I jumped a foot off the bed, terror and fear instinctively kicking in. The jerking motion made the chains connecting my wrists strike my bruised jaw and my head exploded in pain. I moaned and waited for the room to stop spinning. It finally slowed and I tried to understand what was happening, but my brain was clouded with dreams.

"Get the fuck up!"

His harsh demand had me scrambling off the bed and my feet got tangled in the blanket causing me to trip. I let out a painful cry as I landed hard on my hip. As I lay helplessly on the floor, his boots paced dangerously close to my head. I was afraid to look up but knowing what he was doing was better than waiting down here like a sitting duck.

I chanced a quick glance, hoping he wouldn't catch me peering up at him. His eyes were blood shot and he was holding a whiskey bottle in his hand, top off and half empty. His lips were moving, but the blood was pounding so hard behind my ears that I couldn't hear what he was saying.

His face contorted with rage and his body started shaking. I lay motionless on the floor while he came unhinged. He was like an escaped mental patient—or someone doped up on drugs. I couldn't stop staring at that stupid rogue curl, dangling over his flat eyes, swaying back and forth like a metronome.

He spun around, staggered across the room, and slid down the opposite wall, hunched over with his knees pulled up so he could rest his arms on them. The bottle of amber liquid swung precariously between his thumb and fingers as he stared at the floor between his spread legs, chest rising and falling quickly.

I was afraid to move from my spot on the floor. I remembered him saying the reason he didn't drink was because he hated being out of control. Clearly, something happened to make him pick up a bottle of whiskey, but I didn't know what that could be. He'd always been dangerous—unpredictable—but this version of him was petrifying. I took him in, noticing the stubble on his face and his wrinkled clothes. He looked like he'd been on a bender. While I was trying to make sense of things, he threw his head back and let out a savage yell. The sound reminded me of a wounded animal, getting louder and louder until he roared.

Every muscle in my body tensed with what was to come. In a fit of rage, he threw the bottle at the ground a few feet in front of him. It exploded, sending shards of glass in all directions. A jagged piece of glass barely missed my calf. I quickly slid backward on the floor to get out of the line of fire. My back hit the edge of the bed, heart beating erratically. I tried to become invisible, hoping he'd forget about me.

He met my eyes from across the room. They were glassy and filled with so much grief he was drowning in it. "Today's my birthday," he shrugged and blew out a breath. "Well, it's Emmie's birthday too." His voice was low and gravelly, breaking off at the end.

How was I supposed to respond to that? It seemed like bad form to wish your tormentor a happy birthday.

"Come here." He crooked his finger at me. I swallowed heavily; looking at the broken glass and liquid splashed across the floor and shook my head while forcing a pained smile on my face. He narrowed his eyes in warning. "Don't make me come get you."

Most of the glass was out of my path, but I was careful to avoid the shards in front of me as I walked across the room. To my left, a long sliver caught my eye. It was big enough to use as a makeshift knife. My heart rate quickened, and I quickly averted my eyes. I didn't want to alert him to its presence. If he gave me even half a chance, I'd grab it and stab him. I wouldn't even have to think twice before I did it.

"Sit," he ordered and patted the floor beside him. I sat down and leaned against the wall with my arms hugging my legs to my chest, protectively. The concrete was cold on my bare bottom and the whiskey vapors were burning my nose, making it hard to breathe. He looked sideways at me, his eyes glassy and I wasn't sure he recognized who I was. "She would be thirty-two years old today," he slurred and then scrubbed his hand over the stubble on his face, making a sandpaper sound. Even though he was in so much misery, I was still surprised to see a tear sliding down his face. "It should have been me at the bottom of that mine," he pleaded with me to rewrite history and make it so.

He stared off into space for a few minutes and then let out a keening sound as he reached over, pressing my knees down until my legs were stretched out on the floor. Alarm coursed through me and I started breathing faster. I didn't know what he was getting ready to do but I knew I wasn't going to like it. My face turned painfully red as he laid his head in my lap and pulled my arm around his neck, holding it there.

_How can he ask me to comfort him after everything he's done to me? But if I refuse—? _I held myself stiff, afraid to do the wrong thing.

"Do you ever wish you could go back and do things over?" he asked in a voice so quiet I barely heard him.

Of course, I wished I could go back and make different decisions. If I could, I wouldn't be in this cellar right now. But I couldn't say that to him. The last thing I wanted to do was make him angry. That wouldn't be good for me… at all. Fortunately, it seemed to be a rhetorical question. He just wanted someone to commiserate with him and it looked like I was the lucky person.

"I should have looked harder and not given up," he said, as his tears fell onto my thighs and his whole body convulsed with silent sobs. "I left her out there all alone… and she died… because of me." He could barely push the words through his grief-stricken throat.

I didn't want to do it. After the way he'd forced himself on me at his last visit, I wanted him dead, not just stewing in his guilt over his sister's death. In fact, I reveled in the knowledge that he was in so much pain. His pain made me happy and I smiled for the first time in weeks. But when it came right down to it, I still wanted to live. Maybe if I showed him some kindness it would convince him to let me walk out of here. I cringed at the thought of comforting him. It was wrong on so many levels, but I had to do it. I wiped the smile off my face and lifted my hand, reluctantly putting it on his head and smoothing his unruly curls. "You were just a little boy," I soothed. "What happened wasn't your fault."

He sniffed and then his voice became small, almost childlike. "Why won't you love me?"

My eyes darted to the piece of glass I'd marked as a potential weapon. He was drunk and his reflexes wouldn't be as sharp as usual. Maybe I could get to it first and stab him before he knew what was happening. While I debated that course of action, I continued stroking his hair, lulling him into complacency. The silence had gone on for too long and I had to say something. I swallowed hard, and whispered, "How can I love you when you hurt me and make me bleed."

He sighed, gently tracing figure eights on my leg. "I don't want to do those things. That's why I stay away when I'm angry with you. But I didn't want to be alone today."

We were both quiet for a while and finally, in my best therapist voice, I said, "There are people who can help you. You won't have to go alone. I'll go with you."

His finger stopped its continuous movement and I waited, hoping I hadn't made a mistake. A couple minutes when by, but it seemed like an eternity. When he finally spoke, I let out the breath I'd been holding. "You're the only one I need," he said and then quietly began humming a familiar children's tune.

"I meant a professional. They would know how to get you the help you need."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I'd gone too far. Abruptly, he shrugged my hand away, and sat up. We were so close I could see the vein in his neck pulsing. "The only thing I need is for you to love me like I love you." His lips crashed into mine, knocking my head against the block wall. For a moment, I didn't react, but then I recoiled as I pushed at his shoulders. He leaned back, studying my face with his cold eyes, drawing me into the dark pit of emptiness where he resided.

His voice turned hard as he got to his feet. "I don't want to put you in a case like the others, but you're leaving me no choice." He grabbed my upper arm, squeezing hard as he dragged me. I looked around for the shard of glass I spotted earlier and made a swipe for it, but I missed. In a last-ditch effort, I stretched my arm out and tried again. He gave a hard tug and I knew I'd never lay hands on it.

I had my feet under me now, scurrying as he pulled me to the center of the room. He had boots on so he wasn't worried about the glass, but I was trying to dodge the pieces as best I could. I stepped in the wrong place and a thin sliver of glass sliced into the side of my foot. I hissed at the pain, but he didn't hear or care that I'd been hurt. He was only focused on getting me in front of the women.

Once he stopped pulling on my arm, I took my weight off my injured foot and looked down to see blood dripping onto the concrete. He pointed at the women. "Since you won't love me, you can tell me about how much _they_ love me."

My nerves were strung tight. I'd been going over and over the details of their stories for days, but the thought of reciting them while he was drunk terrified me. In his current state, one lash might kill me. I pushed the pain from my foot to the back of my mind and muddled through the entire recitation. By a stroke of luck, I made no mistakes. I couldn't help the huge smile that split my face. I'd finally done what I'd feared was impossible. I'd given him no reason to hurt me today.

In my delighted state, I turned to him, expecting him to be smiling, but he wasn't. In fact, his face looked frighteningly dark. My smile disappeared, and my heart started pounding. For a moment, I'd forgotten to be afraid.

_How stupid could I be? This wasn't a game. I didn't win a prize. Those women had all died by his hand. _

I shivered.

_What have I done? _

His cruel eyes never left mine as he fumbled with his buckle, pulling his belt out of the loops. My mouth hung open in shock, and my chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He said he wouldn't hurt me if I got them all right. And I did. I got them all right. I should be safe. Why was he doing this?

With an evil smile on his face, he took a slow step toward me as if I was his skittish prey. I started backing away one foot at a time, uncaring about the glass on the floor. I held my arms out to ward him off and kept going until my back hit the same wall we'd been sitting against earlier.

"Please don't hurt me," I begged. "I did everything you asked."

He kept advancing—my words not registering. When he grabbed my arm and pulled, I dug my bare feet into the floor, fighting against him. He yanked harder, and I stumbled as my feet scraped along the concrete and glass until I was right back where I started.

I barely had time to turn my face away before the belt landed across my breasts for the first time. Fire ignited like a box of matches—poof—instant agony. That one whip across my chest stung far worse than anything he'd done to my back. There was no way I could let him do it again. Gasping for air, I turned away, presenting him with my already damaged back.

He struck once—twice—three times. I fell to my knees.

Four—five—six times. I was gasping, hands pressed flat on the floor, doing my best to keep my face from digging into the concrete.

Seven—eight—nine times—

I stopped counting as he lashed out in a flurry of strikes. Whip after whip landed on my back with no end in sight.

I screamed.

I begged.

I bargained.

I cursed.

He showed me no mercy.

* * *

A scratching sound at the door woke me. He hadn't been here in a couple days and a small part of me was hoping he wouldn't come back at all. It would mean I would die down here, but wouldn't that be preferable to what he was doing to me?

I lay on the bed with my eyes closed, silently waiting for him to come inside. After the last beating he gave me, I couldn't even look at him without rage building. I kept my breathing slow and even and made no attempt to slide the blanket off. I felt him stop beside my bed, watching for signs that I was awake. I expected him to be angry that I still had the blanket over me. I had prepared for him to shake me or kick the bed because of my open defiance, but he just moved away without doing or saying anything.

I opened my eyes a little to see what he was doing. He put the box of supplies he carried on the table and quietly moved his chair to the center of the room with the back resting against the wooden support pole. I noticed all the glass was gone and realized he must have cleaned up while I'd been passed out from the beating he'd given me.

As if he could sense me watching, he glanced my way. My heart thundered in my chest and I quickly closed my eyes. I waited a few minutes and when I heard him speaking in low tones, I chanced another look. He was pacing in front of the women, bare chested and carrying on a conversation with each of them. After he finished his chat with Melissa, he walked back to his chair and sat.

I glanced at the women, letting my eyes travel down the line, trying to figure out what he saw when he looked at them. Movement caught my eye as he stood and began unbuckling his belt, pulling it from the loops in preparation for another recitation. Sweat broke out all over my body and I started shaking under the blanket. Just the sight of it made it hard for me to breathe. He let the belt fall to the floor beside his chair and started unbuttoning his pants. When his pants and underwear were around his ankles, he sat back down.

I couldn't take my eyes off the belt—innocently lying there. I wanted to set the damn thing on fire and watch it burn the same way it burned me. I smiled, imagining myself casually walking over to him and grabbing it. Before he knew what was happening, I'd have it wrapped around his neck, watching the life drain out of his eyes as I strangled him. He'd never beat me again. I'd make sure of that.

My entire body hummed with excitement. I wanted to do it—I wanted to do it so badly. But what would happen to me if I failed? The answer was simple. He'd kill me. I didn't want to die. But wasn't I going to die anyway? I knew my death was his end game. The other eight women hadn't survived; I didn't think I was any better than they had been.

The way I saw it, I had two choices; kill him before he could kill me or accept my death at his hands. I chose killing him… but how? I was getting weaker by the day. If I was going to do something, I needed to do it soon. My time was running out.

Over the weeks, I'd formed plenty of escape plans, but there had been major flaws with each of them. The only weapon I had at my disposal was my brain. I figured I could manipulate him—use his emotions against him. He fancied himself in love with me and so far, I'd done nothing to encourage him. I wondered what would happen if I did. If I could make him believe I've had a change of heart, maybe I could distract him and get my hands on the belt. It was a risky move, one that might get me killed, but at least I would die valiantly.

He leaned back, stretching his legs out and pumped his shaft. He closed his eyes and moaned, so engrossed in what he was doing, I don't think he'd notice if I walked across the room and stood right in front of him. The belt was right there, taunting me. It was now or never. I might not get another chance to take advantage of his distracted state. If he was like most men, it wouldn't last long.

My heart beat wildly as I slowly slid my leg out from under the blanket and off the bed. I waited to see if he noticed.

He didn't.

Being careful not to let my chains clank and give me away, I slid my legs further off the bed. By the time both feet were on the ground, I was sweating and breathing a little harder, but he still hadn't looked my way. Very gradually, I sat up. I could feel my heart pounding from the inside out as I slowly walked across the room, careful not to alarm him. I had to walk with my legs spread apart in order to keep the chains from dragging on the floor, but it was a small price to pay.

I was waiting right in front of him when his eyes popped open. They widened for a split second and then he turned curious, but he continued pumping his hard cock with slow, even strokes.

My entire body was covered in a thin layer of sweat. The thought of my slippery hands ruining my plan nauseated me and threatened to send me running back to the bed. At least I'd live to see another day—probably. I met his eyes as I wiped my clammy hands on my bare thighs, hoping he didn't see how afraid I was.

His dick stuck straight up like a proud offering and a drop of cum leaked from the head. He placed both his hands on the arms of the chair, jutted his hips further out, and peered up at me with hopeful eyes, inviting me to touch. I swallowed hard, bracing myself for what I was about to do. He looked me up and down, stopping to focus between my legs. His eyes had a dreamy look in them. "You get more beautiful every time I see you."

He was one messed up freak. I didn't look beautiful, not even close. My skin was jaundiced and loose over my bones and I was covered in bloody bruises from my face down to my toes. I was hoping my hypothesis about him was correct—that he was becoming more sexually attracted to me the closer to death I became. And since his dick was still hard, I had to assume there was something to my assumption. Maybe I wasn't such a bad therapist after all. I gave him a thin smile, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach and lowered myself to my knees.

His nostrils flared, and his eyes glazed over. He was so mesmerized, he didn't suspect a thing as I placed my left hand on the floor, a foot away from the belt—careful not to look at it and remind him of its presence. The element of surprise was the only thing I had going for me.

I did my best to project vulnerability as I looked up at him and gestured with my chin to his crotch. "May I?" His eyes widened and his mouth hung open. After a moment of pause, he nodded slowly, seemingly incapable of speech. Very slowly, I reached my hand out to touch him. Before I got close, he grabbed my wrist and held on tight. I shook my head, frowning. "No touching."

He retracted his hand and tilted his head to the side, warily watching as he let me take control. I kept my expression neutral, but on the inside, I was smiling as I moved his left arm behind his back. "Trust me." I held his eyes with mine as if we were linked. It gave me great pleasure to manipulate him for a change.

My plan was two-fold—distract with one hand and attack with the other. When I had both of his arms behind his back, I sat back on my heels. He wasn't restrained, but it would make it harder for him to react when I made my move. Hopefully, he wouldn't see it coming.

I kept my left hand on the floor, seemingly for balance, while using my right to gently trace down his stomach, drawing out every sensation.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his stomach muscles quivered.

While he was consumed with his arousal, thinking I was finally giving in, I slid my left hand into the pocket of his jeans, feeling for a weapon or key, while my other hand continued its assault on his stomach, getting close enough to his cock to tease, but not to touch.

I'd never seen him with a gun or a pocketknife and didn't expect to find one, but when my fingertips found the metal ring of keys, I was afraid he could sense my triumph. I looked up from hooded eyes, meekly trying to put him further at ease. The keys jingled against each other as I slipped them from his jeans. To me, it sounded like symbols in a marching band and I knew he had to have heard them. To distract him further, I closed my hand around the base of his penis and squeezed.

After this was over, I could pretend it never happened.

"Unnh," he grunted and pushed his hips off the chair, placing his cock dangerously close to my mouth. He was letting me know his patience was running thin and that he wanted me to do more. He was long and thick, bobbing just inches from my lips. "Open your mouth." He tried to make his voice sound commanding, but it came out as a desperate whimper.

His chest rose and fell as he took slow deep breaths in through his nose. With each exhale he would moan, anticipating what was to come. I swallowed back the bile in my throat, preparing myself. If there was any hope of getting out of here, I had to do what he wanted. It was just one harmless act, I told myself. It would take mere minutes of my time… and might save my life.

After I'd made peace with what I was about to do, I opened my mouth wide and leaned forward, one heart crushing centimeter at a time.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: According to FF statistics, twice as many people read chapter 14 than read chapters 11, 12, and 13. That indicates to me that because I dumped all 4 chapters at once, some of you may have assumed chapter 14 was the next chapter to read and missed the others. So, if you made that error, back up and read the other chapters. Sorry about the confusion. **

**CHAPTER 15**

**Down in The Dumps**

If I moved even a hair more, the tip of his penis would touch my lips. I swallowed back the nausea and tried to convince myself I could do this, but as much as I tried to keep my face clear of all reactions, I knew I was failing. My revulsion had to be visible to him, and I thought any minute now, he was going to realize I had something planned. The longer I paused, the harder it became to go through with it. I thought I'd convinced myself this degradation was worth it to save my life, but if I let this happen, I didn't think I could come back from it.

I needed to distract him without sacrificing what little pride I had left. I cleared my mind of everything but my plan and instead of closing my lips around him like he'd been hoping, I squeezed the base of his penis with my right hand, pumping him with a firm grip.

One—two—three pumps and his eyes closed tightly. His body tensed, muscles standing out in relief.

_Enjoy it motherfucker. This'll be the last pleasure you will ever have. _

I felt the belt in my left hand, rough and hard. I pulled it closer, getting it into position and threaded one end through the buckle, creating a circle. He closed his eyes and moaned all while keeping his hands behind his back like a good boy. My heart was beating a mile a minute.

_It was now or never._

And then it happened. His body stiffened and he threw his head back, groaning loudly. I couldn't let myself feel disgust as he erupted all over my hand and his stomach. While he was in an orgasmic fog, I let go of his penis and grabbed the belt with both hands, slipping it around his neck, pulling it tight. His eyes bulged and his mouth hung open in surprise. While the choking pressure built, I got to my feet and grabbed a fist full of his hair. I pulled his head forward and then slammed it back against the wooden pole as hard as I could.

It all happened so fast. For a moment, he was dazed and then he started struggling. He swung his arms wildly, trying to knock mine away and get to his feet, but his pants were still around his ankles, making it hard to defend himself. Realizing he was limited in motion, he fell back in the chair and kicked out with both feet, landing a direct hit to my thigh. It nearly brought me down, but I managed to recover and stepped behind him, out of his reach.

Using all the strength I had, I gave the belt another hard yank. He was struggling so hard to breath that his face was turning an angry red and he was kicking aimlessly while clawing at his neck. I focused all my energy into pulling harder and harder. In a desperate attempt for air, he twisted at the waist until his stomach was over the chair and he was facing me. His wild punches were landing on my face and chest. At first, they weren't as hard because he was getting into a better position, but after he got his knees on the chair for leverage, he landed a punch across my already damaged cheek. I stumbled backwards, almost letting go of the belt.

I was able to shake off the pain and give the belt another hard yank that caused the chair to tip over backward sending him to the floor. He was gasping for breath, making odd choking sounds as his body began to spasm. In a last-ditch effort, he rallied himself and whacked me behind my knees. I went down, head bouncing off the concrete. I lay unmoving, but my suffering had only just begun.

"Stupid bitch." He got on top of me, pressing his knee into my chest so hard I couldn't breathe, and landed blow after blow with his fists, pummeling me everywhere as he unleashed his anger with a roar. The blows came fast and furious until all I felt was one giant mass of pain. "I trusted you," he screamed as he got to his feet and kicked me one last time in my side. The pain was so intense, everything went black.

* * *

I don't know how much time had passed while I lay on the floor weaving in and out of consciousness, but each time I came around I was struck with more pain than I'd thought possible. I had no choice but to let the darkness take me back under. When I was finally able to rouse myself and stay that way, I realized I couldn't see a thing. My eyes were swollen shut and hurt like hell.

My heart raced, thinking he was silently watching me without my knowledge. I couldn't be sure he was gone. I needed to see it with my own eyes, but they weren't exactly cooperating. It took some time to work my eyes open but when I was able to look around, I didn't see him anywhere. I wanted to say I felt relief that I was still alive, but that would be a lie. I was angry… angrier than I'd ever been. That had been my last plan to get out of here and I'd failed. He was going to kill me now and put me in a case. I'd be part of his collection, gruesomely witnessing him tell some other poor girl all about how I fell in love with him. And I'll have to watch her suffer through starvation and beatings because she can't remember the details of our 'love story'.

I wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all.

I looked over at the bed, longing for its comfort and warmth, but it seemed a million miles away. I wished I could magically transport myself across the room because there was no way I could get up and walk. I wasn't even sure I could crawl, but I had to get off the floor and get warm. I managed to get my knees under me and start the slow crawl to the bed. I whimpered and hissed through the pain as I brought each knee forward in a journey that seemed never ending.

My thighs, my back, my ribs… they all hurt beyond measure. By the time I pulled myself up on the bed, I was sweating and breathing hard—weaker than I'd ever been. I was sure some of my ribs were broken. I didn't know how many or how badly they were broken; the only thing I knew for sure was that they burned like fire even when I wasn't moving.

The requisite brown paper bag was waiting for me on the bed. I didn't know if I should be grateful he was still willing to keep me alive or pissed off that I hadn't died. Right this minute, I felt that death would have been a gift compared to what he had in store for me. I took a few minutes to rest and then reached for the bag. I pulled out the bottle of water, desperate for a drink, but was barely able to open my jaw wide enough to take a tiny sip.

Every day my hunger grew worse. To pass the time, I found myself imagining all the things I would eat when I got out of here—things like pineapple upside-down cake, KitKat bars, Boston cream donuts, and fettuccine Alfredo with sausage from Rossini's. You name it, and I was going to eat it. Sometimes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could taste the greasy flavor of a Big Mac, the zesty sauce on a meatball sub, and the icy strawberry Freeze that would soothe my dry mouth. You'd think it would be torture, but in a strange way, it made me happy.

Other times, I imagined walking on the beach at Point Pleasant, kicking the water as the tide rolled in and then running up and down the beach, dancing like a kid again, happy and carefree. It made me think of young love and of Ian McLeary. I smiled even though I was in pain. I hadn't thought of Ian in a long time. Some of my happiest memories were of Mary Lou and Lenny… Me and Ian… and that summer at the shore. We were the four musketeers, making plans for our senior year in high school. I might have loved Joe Morelli as a girl, but Ian was the first boy who loved me back. And he was the first boy to truly break my heart. I wondered where he was and what he was doing with his life. Did he ever think about me? Would he be sad to find out what happened to me?

The problem with happy thoughts is that they never last as long as we'd like. Everything seemed bittersweet—as if I was looking back on my life, realizing it was already over. I guess on some self-protective level, I was making peace with myself. Just thinking these thoughts was depressing me, and I started to cry in earnest. I'm not talking about the dainty little tears that flow from the corners of your eyes that can be dotted with a handkerchief. I'm talking about the ugly ones. The one's that cause your body to shake and your face to get red and snot to flow from your nose like a faucet. It's the kind of crying that you can't stop… not until everything you feel has run its course and left you rung out like a dishrag.

When my sadness threatened to bury me… that's when I pulled out my memories of Hawaii. I relived every minute of mine and Ranger's time there. I recalled us taking moonlit walks, hand in hand on the beach, and making love in our cottage all hours of the day. But as much as the memories made me happy, they also brought sadness. They were like a double-edged knife, slashing me with their goodness and then prying open the wound as resentment settled in. I had wanted more from Ranger than what he was willing to give. That week meant everything to me. I rubbed over the ache in my chest wishing things could have been different.

I also wished our last conversation had ended differently. It took a lot of courage for me to ask him point blank if he thought we could have a future. Hearing his rejection was one of the hardest things I've ever had to suffer through. He wasn't hurtful when he let me down, just the opposite. He was kind, but blunt… leaving no room for misinterpretation. It hurt like hell. I wish now I hadn't confronted him. At least I could die thinking someday we might have been together.

I hated that my parents were suffering. They must be out of their minds with worry. The irony of my mother's warnings wasn't lost on me. 'Stephanie, why can't you be more like Tina Rinaldi, she works at the Button Factory and has benefits, maternity leave, and no possibility of kidnapping.'

_Would I ever see any of them again? Did they know that I loved them? _

That piece of the unknown haunted me the most.

After a few minutes of self-pity, my eyes widened, and I gasped. Rex! Oh, my poor baby. How could I have forgotten my little buddy? My shoulder shook with sobs. They hadn't even known I was missing until seven days had passed. He had probably starved to death before they found him.

I was riding a roller coaster of emotions. Fear and anger were the strongest, but they were tempered with random bouts of hopelessness. Most of the time I just wanted to give up. Tears pooled in my eyes when I imagined life going on without me.

I wondered how long it would take before Ranger stopped looking for me and found someone else to fill my cubicle. I'd be relegated to a distant memory, just someone that he used to know.

Would Joe forget all about me too? Would he find someone who could make him happier than I had and marry her?

The dam broke, and the tears fell.

My family could devote years searching for me with no closure. Or worse, they could find me posed in a glass case, wearing a fancy dress, rotting away for a pervert's viewing pleasure.

If I ended up like that, I hope they never found me.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

**Cup of Joe**

Joe sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee while watching the sun rise through the bay window. Ironically, this was the same spot he was sitting when he got the news that Stephanie was missing, but it wasn't his kitchen—and he wasn't in Trenton.

He took another sip of coffee—might as well, it wasn't like he was going to be able to get back to sleep. Truth be told, he hadn't slept a solid night since he found out Stephanie had disappeared. He tried to believe they were going to find her, but with each passing day, he lost a little more hope. He knew the odds better than anyone. After forty-eight hours—rescue was bleak—and after seventy-two hours, they were looking for a body. This wasn't like the normal trouble she got into. She'd been gone for twenty-one days now, and he'd finally realized she might not be coming back—at least not alive.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes harder than he should have and let out a long sigh. He was so damned tired. They'd followed every lead, even the long shots. The meeting at the Plum's had yielded some good leads, but it came as no surprise to anyone on the investigative team that the number Mrs. Plum gave them was for a burner phone. One of Ranger's men was monitoring its signal on the off chance her abductor got sloppy and turned it on, even for a minute. That's all it would take to pinpoint a location, but Joe wasn't holding out hope. Most likely the kidnapper had tossed it.

The one thing that was plentiful was video surveillance footage. The police had obtained all the traffic camera footage of the area as well as footage from surrounding businesses, but it was through Rangeman's private security cameras that they got their first glimpse of the man that likely abducted Stephanie. The camera caught a dark, curly haired man wearing a business suit as he entered and exited Giovincini's to have his 'impromptu' meeting with Mrs. Plum. Unfortunately, he was filmed from the back and side views, but nothing straight on. And the quality was too pixelated to be of any use.

Surveillance footage was also gathered from both of Joe's neighbors, which turned out to be a bust. Mrs. Lukach's camera was out of range, but they did catch sight of something interesting on Mr. Gorvich's footage. A blurry image of Stephanie's suspected abductor was captured in profile as he entered Joe's house through the back door. He was wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, which obscured his face and hair. Due to the poor quality of the camera and the fact it'd been raining that day, the picture was grainy. Hector had attempted to clean up the image, but it was too pixilated to run through facial recognition. Bottom line… they had nothing new to distinguish him from any other man who owned black jeans and a hoodie.

The best hope of finding him had come when they discovered a partial print left on the pen when he wrote down his phone number for Mrs. Plum. It wasn't as good as a complete print, in fact it was the epitome of a longshot, but it gave them something solid to work on. As expected, when the feds ran it through IAFIS, it returned an overwhelming possibility of matches… 677 to be exact. Ranger's men were working systematically to rule out each possibility, but it was time consuming and frustrating. On the upside—they'd effectively ruled out 135 million convicted criminals, military personnel, and civil employees whose prints were in the system. Which meant they'd wasted a lot of time looking in all the wrong places.

To sum it up. They were looking for a man with short curly dark hair, medium build, tall, and handsome. It could be anyone. The only thing they'd been able to accomplish was to identify who hadn't taken Stephanie. They had no persons of interest to talk to. No one to lean on for information and nowhere to go with the investigation. It was dead in the water.

But Ranger wasn't willing to accept defeat. He'd set up a 24/7 tip line for anyone to call in with information leading to Stephanie's whereabouts. His men checked out every single lead, even if it was clear the caller was only after the reward money, which was now up to one million dollars. Joe leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his knees and shaking his head. He could barely contemplate that amount of money.

Objectively, he was impressed with Ranger's whole operation, and his dedication to finding Stephanie, but if he was being honest, he also felt threatened by Ranger's strong feelings for her. He knew they had a connection, because no man in his right mind would willingly offer to spend one million dollars in reward money on a casual friend. If Ranger was the type to commit to a woman, Joe would have to force Stephanie to end her friendship with him.

He huffed a laugh, thinking how funny life was sometimes. He hadn't had any interaction with Stephanie for a dozen or more years and then when his life was at its lowest point, there she was, suddenly thrust directly in his path. If it hadn't been for her taking the job with Vinnie, he didn't think he'd have ever reconnected with her. Hell, he'd probably be in prison for a murder he hadn't committed.

In the beginning, he was more interested in regular sex than a relationship, and she fit all his qualifications but one. She wanted some sort of a commitment from him before she'd let him get her into bed. He'd resisted for as long as he could and then finally started offering her tiny promises that he'd take back after the moment had passed and he'd been satisfied. But there was a big problem he hadn't foreseen. She was addictive. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her, but she wasn't the only one he was seeking comfort from.

He straightened when he heard a noise behind him. Just before he looked over his shoulder, a pair of delicate arms slid around his neck. "Come back to bed, baby," a sultry voice whispered. "It's too early to be up."

As she kissed the outer edge of his ear, he slipped his hand inside the silk robe, running his fingers up her thigh. He loved Stephanie, he really did, but no matter how hard he tried to distance himself from Terry, he always made his way back to her. It'd been that way since high school.

At the age of fourteen, they'd been each other's firsts. They danced around each other the same way he and Steph did, giving in when the need became too great, but there was no future for them. Her family was the mob and he was a cop, you couldn't draw a line thicker than that. If they were publicly involved it would be the end of his police career, and she'd never ask that of him.

"I think I'm going to head back to Trenton," he said, hoping she'd understand. He was feeling more guilt than usual being here with her while Steph was missing, but the stress of looking for her was getting to him, and he'd needed a release.

Terry made herself at home on his lap, running her fingertips down his chest, hovering at the waist band of his boxers, teasing him. "You know she's going to be fine." She tried to convince him. "How many times has she been in scrapes and managed to turn up after getting everyone worried. It's what she does. Can't you see that?"

Joe was aware of Terry's jealousy toward Steph. It took her a long time to forgive him for the bakery incident because she knew Stephanie wasn't like the other girls he fucked on the side. Terry never liked it that Joe couldn't be a one-woman man which is why they were on and off over the years, never able to make it work for long stretches at a time.

In Terry's mind, Joe belonged to her and always would. She hated every woman he fucked, especially Stephanie, but Terry didn't know her as he did. Steph was selfless. Her willingness to help people was what always got her into trouble. No matter what he told her, it wasn't always her fault. Hell, he should know, he was once the trouble knocking on her door. She was so young back then, working at the bakery, and he knew better. He was older, and supposedly wiser, but he seduced her anyway. He moved fast, overwhelming her senses, keeping her hormones on the cusp of something unknown to her so she wouldn't think about the consequences.

She hadn't stood a chance.

"I'll come back to bed in a little while, I can't sleep right now." His mind was occupied with too many thoughts of Stephanie.

_What was she doing right now? Was she safe? Was he hurting her?_

He hated feeling helpless. All his training and the resources of the whole fucking federal government had given them nothing. She was out there somewhere, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Her finger slipped inside his boxers, heading south. They'd already gone a couple rounds and he wasn't sure he had anything left in him. She got up, kissed him on the mouth, and sashayed her ass across the room, and down the hall toward the bedroom they shared when he could find the time. Her confidence was her biggest attraction, even when they were teenager's she had an air of sophistication about her that none of the other girls had.

He didn't move to follow her—not yet. He continued drinking his coffee, thinking about the woman he proposed to. Stephanie was easy to fall in love with. The thought of marriage no longer seemed like a noose around his neck. But the times he'd been ready to move forward in their relationship, she was backing away.

It shamed him to admit, but sometimes he deliberately picked fights with her to trigger an off cycle in order to ease his conscience when he needed to be with Terry. It wasn't right and he knew Steph would be hurt if she found out, but that was his ugly truth. He had feelings for two women. One loved him but couldn't decide if she wanted a life with him, and the other wanted a life with him, but circumstances prevented it.

Over the years, he's had to be careful meeting Terry. It was one of the reasons she bought this house in Philly. It wasn't even in her name. It was owned by a holding company that she controlled. He'd spent many nights here while he was away on 'assignment.' If Steph ever found out, she'd leave him without a backward glance. It wouldn't matter to her if it happened during their off times or not. She wouldn't cut him any slack even though he did when he caught her with Ranger in Hawaii.

His nostril's flared. That had been humiliating. The Italian Stallion of the Burg, coming in second to that psycho mercenary who believes he's Rambo. The man is so full of himself he's got Steph thinking he's some kind of superhero. She does anything he asks of her, never stopping to think about her safety. Most of the dangerous situations she gets herself into are because of him. But he couldn't tell her that, she wouldn't listen to anything negative about Ranger.

He thought he'd simplified his life when he'd taken her to Cuba and asked her to marry him. He'd made his choice and intended on ending things with Terry after he got back, but Steph surprised him when she said she needed time to think. He knew that was code for figuring out her place in Ranger's life.

The man had been a thorn in his side for years now. He never would have allowed him to hover on the fringes of his relationship with Stephanie if he'd known they would develop feelings for each other. But that was the price he paid for continuing to juggle two women. It was impossible to be in two places at one time and Stephanie got into a lot of trouble. One man wasn't enough to take care of her. He needed Ranger to pick up some of the slack and now it seemed to have backfired.

What really worried him is how things would change if they found her. Would this be a wakeup call to Ranger? Would he decide to get serious? If he did, he'd have a fight on his hands.

Thinking like that was getting his emotions riled up. He dumped the rest of his coffee down the sink and walked toward the bedroom.

One more round wouldn't hurt.


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

**All Good Things Must Come to An End**

Incessant pain plagued me, getting more severe by the second. I wasn't sure how much time had passed since I'd crawled off the floor and onto the bed, but it was long enough that my thirst had become dire and my stomach was turning over in painful grumbles. He'd beaten me so badly; I was surprised I woke up at all.

I dreaded the next time I saw him or maybe I should say **if** I ever saw him again. After what I pulled, he could decide I wasn't worth keeping alive any longer. But I already knew that before I ever tried to strangle him. Even though I failed, it had been worth it. Watching him panic and struggle for breath gave me a little bit of my power back. I might not have done as much damage as I'd wanted and I hadn't managed to get away, but I'd at least hurt him and for that I was satisfied.

I moaned and tried to get more comfortable, but no matter how I moved, it hurt all over. When I tried to open my eyes, they wouldn't budge. I gently ran my fingertips over the crusted lids, feeling the dried blood and tears. I carefully tested the area, wincing as I pushed with the tiniest pressure against the bruises and swelling. Tears gathered behind the lids, helping to loosen the gunk. I was finally able to get one eye open, but the other was pretty much swollen shut.

Being as careful as possible of my ribs and other injuries, I levered myself into a sitting position. I was seeing everything through a filmy haze. Ever since he'd shown me the women, the first thing I've done when I wake up is check on them. It might be cowardly, but I'm afraid they'll somehow wake up and get me while I sleep. I glanced at the women and frowned. There was a pristine glass case standing beside Melissa.

And it was empty.

I carefully blinked, thinking I wasn't seeing things correctly since I had only one functioning eye, but when I looked again, it was still there. For a split second I questioned whether one of the women had gotten out. I started gasping for breath and looking around the room. When I didn't see anything out of place, I focused back on the women, counting them. There were eight, just like there had been from the beginning, but why was there a new case?

Breath stalled in my throat.

It was for me.

I was looking at my final resting place.

A wave of dizziness hit me, and I closed my eyes against the glass abomination, rubbing my hand over the pain in my chest. He was sending me a message, telling me he was done with me. The finality of it all hit me like a ton of bricks.

I can't explain what happened next. When I opened my eyes, and looked around, the cellar was gone and in its place was the beautiful balcony from the hotel in Cuba. As if I was watching a movie, I saw myself sitting at the white metal table as Joe got down on one knee to propose. It seemed so real, but it wasn't possible. I quickly squeezed my eyes shut, giving my head a brisk shake to clear it, but when I looked again, Joe was still down on his knee smiling up at me as the sun glinted off the diamond in his hand. While I watched myself staring at the ring, the balcony began to melt away. "Joe," I called out to him from my place on the floor, but he didn't seem to hear me. He continued staring at the other me as they gradually faded into nothingness.

What's happening to me?

I squeezed my eyes again and this time when I looked, Joe was standing at the end of a beautifully decorated aisle lined with tall candelabras and scattered with red rose petals, wearing a black fitted tuxedo with his arm stretched out to me. "Joe," I screamed as I got up to run toward him, but it hurt to move. I looked down to see why I was in so much pain and couldn't believe what I saw. The blanket was gone, and I was standing in a white wedding dress with high heels on my feet.

I was so relieved I started laughing. Being trapped in the cellar had been a horrible nightmare. Now that I was awake, I could marry Joe. I picked up my dress to keep from tripping and started running, but the faster I ran, the further away he got. "Joe," I desperately called out, reaching for him.

I didn't want to stop running. I told myself I'd catch up to him soon, but I was getting tired and my chest was hurting from breathing so hard. My feet became tangled in the hem of my dress, and I fell flat on my face, knocking the breath out of me. When I looked up, I expected to see Joe rushing to my side, offering a hand to help me up, but he wasn't there, and neither were the rose petals or beautiful decorations.

I looked around in confusion at the drab concrete prison surrounding me. I glanced down, cursing the dress that tripped me. I was shocked to find myself naked and chained. This couldn't be right. The cellar had been just a bad dream. How could I be back here?

But then I felt something cool around my neck and remembered I'd been wearing Grandma Mazur's pearl necklace on my wedding day to Joe. I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping all this confusion was finally ending. I was confident I just needed to find where I put my wedding dress and everything would be okay, but when I ran my fingers over the pearls, I frowned. Instead of little balls on a string, I felt a thick metal band… like a… collar? The savage cry that ripped through me was unnatural.

"NOOOO!"

I hung my head and cried, great big gut-wrenching sobs, so intense I thought I'd die.

"Stephanie."

Abruptly, I stopped crying and held my breath, afraid to look up.

"Cupcake."

I heard him. It was faint, but I heard him calling. I slowly raised my head, and there stood Joe, five feet away, more handsome than ever in his jeans and green Henley. "You're here," I sighed in pure joy. "You're really here."

He smiled, looking ethereal, but didn't come closer.

"I'm glad you found me." I tried to stand, but for some reason I couldn't get my body to cooperate. I held both hands out to him, shackles dangling. "Hurry, Joe! Get these off me." I looked behind me at the door. "He'll be back anytime."

Joe pressed his lips tightly together in disappointment. "I told you something like this was going to happen, Cupcake." He shook his head. "I can't help you now. Your luck's finally run out. You should have said yes when I first asked you to marry me. I would have taken care of you; given you a family, but you had to think about it. No matter what I did, you just wouldn't settle down. You had to keep running into danger expecting me to clean up your messes."

I reached for him. "You don't understand. This wasn't my fault. I just wanted ice cream."

He sighed and walked toward the door.

"Wait! Joe—wait! Please, don't leave me here!" I begged.

He disappeared through the closed door without a backwards glance.

My outstretched hands dropped to the floor and tears drenched my face. _It wasn't my fault. It wasn't. _I hung my head in defeat, more broken than I'd ever been.

When my tears finally dried up, I found myself lying in a broken heap in the middle of the floor. My thoughts weren't connecting properly. My brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton, but there was something flickering around the edges, coaxing me to look up. I slowly lifted my head and gasped. I was inside the empty case standing next to Melissa, wearing the frilly red dress and a smile on my face. A blood curdling scream erupted from deep inside me; so loud it could wake the dead. Over the sound of my scream I heard hands clapping as if applauding a good performance.

"Bravo. That was all very entertaining, Cupcake."

I craned my neck to find where the voice was coming from. Melissa was jumping up and down on the balls of her feet, laughing with glee and then the rest of the women joined in. When their laughter died down, Donna smiled coyly and asked, "Soooo, Who's Joe?"

"And is he cute?" Sharon chimed in with her higher pitched voice. "Please, tell me he's cute."

Karen turned her head to Melissa and asked, "What kind of woman lets a man call her Cupcake?"

Kelly stuck her chin out. "Did you really think you were better than us?"

"My baby and I didn't get away, so why should you?" Ashley barely whispered through the tears in her voice.

"Leave her alone," Jenny yelled. "She fought harder than all of us, and you know it."

Melissa yawned openly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I didn't see her do shit. And anyways, she's still here, isn't she?"

"She was our last chance to go home." Jenny said sternly.

"No. No. No." I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the sides of my head, forcefully shaking the delusions away. "This isn't happening."

I was losing it. I had to get out of here before there was nothing left of me.

"Joe! Ranger! Somebody… anybody, please find me," I yelled as huge gut-wrenching sobs jerked through my body.

* * *

I woke sometime later, my body aching, and burning with fever. My head was so full of pressure I thought it might explode. I moaned and gasped for breath, making the congestion in my chest break up, nearly strangling me. I tried to turn over so I could breathe easier, but as soon as I moved, I was wracked with coughs. When my breathing became steady, I lay on the bed, depleted of energy and sick out of my mind.

I had a fleeting memory that Joe had been here—that I'd begged him to get me out of here—and he abandoned me instead. But that didn't sound right; Joe wouldn't do that. He was probably scouring all of Trenton and beyond looking for me.

I also remembered something else. Something truly disturbing. The women had been yelling and saying nasty things to me, but there was no way that happened. They were dead. I sighed at my stupidity. I had to have been hallucinating. That was the only explanation. It was probably due to my fever. I hadn't lost my mind… yet. But just to be sure, I glanced over at them. They looked the same as always… except for the empty glass case standing beside Melissa. I hadn't hallucinated that.

Was this how my life ended?

Tears started to fall. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to get married again one day and get my life straightened out. There was supposed to be time to figure all that out and now… now there was no more time left. I started shaking so hard I was practically vibrating with anger… fear… and sadness. He put me through weeks of hell only to end up just like the others. I had no fight left in me and now that I was sick, it was just a matter of time. All there was left to do was wait for him to finish me off.

* * *

My food was all gone—had been for some time now. Without it, I barely had the energy to roll over. All I seemed to do anymore was sleep. I knew I had a fever because I was both sweating and shivering, but my chattering teeth were the least of my worries. What hurt the most was the burning in my throat and the rattling congestion deep in my chest. I rubbed my nose and let out a pitiful moan when my hand brushed over the raw skin for the zillionth time. Even though it was running, it was also stopped up. If I wanted to breathe, I had to keep my mouth open, making the sensitive lining inside my mouth dry and cracked.

Because of my measly allocation of water, trips to the toilet were rarely needed, and I knew my kidneys were suffering. The urge to cough hit me again and after I calmed, I adjusted the blanket, trying to get comfortable. Now that I'd lost so much weight, it was almost impossible for my body to generate any heat. That's probably one of the reasons I got sick. My immune system had weakened to the point I couldn't shake whatever cold or virus that plagued me.

Tears clouded my eyes, flowing down my cheeks. It only made breathing harder and yet I couldn't stop. I wanted my Mom. I wanted her to take care of me the same way she did when I was little, bringing me chicken soup and grilled cheese sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I cried harder, knowing I'd never see her again.

Even though the jerking motions made my entire rib section feel like it was on fire, I still couldn't stop the gut wrenching sobs. The sorrow went too deep. Between the tears and the congestion in my chest, I felt like I was drowning. After I was all cried out, I managed to push myself into a somewhat upright position with my shoulder against the course block wall, wincing each time I put any pressure on my broken ribs. Now that I was elevated, I could breathe a little easier.

Somehow, I was able to fall asleep while in that awkward position, and my head fell to the side, nearly resting on my shoulder. Being awake had become almost unbearable and I was glad I'd been able to drift off. My head jerked when I heard the keys being turned in the lock of the door and winced at the crick that had developed in my neck. He came inside, not bothering to glance my way, let alone say hello as he crossed the room.

Being startled awake had me breathing faster and I held my ribs as I coughed violently. The wet rumbling sound filled the room, but he didn't seem to notice. I opened my mouth to ask for a doctor or medicine, but nothing came out. I used the blanket to gently wipe the snot from my nose and tried again. "I'm… sick… " It was all I could get out. I needed a moment to catch my breath before I went on. "I need… a doctor." I forced the words through my constricted throat and then was struck with more violent coughs.

He didn't even glance my way. He went about his business, switching the generators and the batteries in the lanterns. When his work was complete, he approached the women and held whispered conversations with each of them. He'd been here mere minutes and he was already gathering his box to leave. When he got to my bed, he stopped to toss the paper bag my way.

"Can you… " I coughed. "Medicine." I coughed again, choking as I strangled on the mucus. "Please." I broke out in a coughing fit so painful that tears streamed down my face.

I'd hoped he'd show me some kindness—that somewhere deep down inside him there must be goodness, even if it was only a little—but his face was devoid of any expression. He stared at me as if I was an inconsequential bug that he could stomp out of existence. Finally, he took a slow deep breath and exhaled while shaking his head. He didn't need words to tell me he was disappointed in me. When he started for the door, panic set in and I started to cry in earnest.

"Please." My voice cracked as I begged, but he didn't look back.

* * *

Durant hadn't been back in a while, or at least he hadn't been back while I was awake. But, I guess, in my feverish state, anything was possible. During that time, I hadn't gotten any better, in fact I was worse. I knew if I didn't get help soon, I was going to die down here.

Was this what happened with the other women? Had they gotten sick from lack of proper nutrition and the conditions down here and he just let them die? I had a feeling it was more complicated than that. Granted, I was missing a lot of the pieces to the puzzle, but from his reactions and the things he'd said, I believed he was waiting until I was almost dead before raping me. And maybe even after.

My thoughts kept coming back to Ashley. He never smiled at her and rarely talked to her. I'd go so far as to say, he hated her. If I was going to die down here, I was going to make it my mission that he hated me too. I wouldn't be one of his beloved that he talked to and masturbated in front of. I'd be the one who caused his dick to shrivel every time he looked at me. It would be my final gift to him.

An idea started to form.

I needed to make him so angry that he'd gladly end my suffering.

Now that I was resigned to what lay ahead, I had time for regrets… and I had a lot of them. Mostly, I regretted never taking the time to tell my family and friends how much I loved them. It was a hard pill to swallow. But even though I never told them how I truly felt, I could honor those feelings now. Maybe, they could feel my love across the distance.

I pictured Mom, Grandma, Valerie, and I as we stood in my parent's kitchen making Christmas cookies just a few short weeks ago. Dad waltzed in, grabbing the dish towel, swatting Mom on the bottom. We all burst into laughter when she shrieked. I froze the image in my mind so I could memorize every line on their faces. Then Dad kissed Mom on her cheek, surreptitiously stealing a cookie to eat in his recliner while watching Jeopardy. On his way out of the kitchen, I pulled him in for a hug and whispered. **_I love you Daddy. Thanks for putting up with me. I know I was a trial most of the time. _**

I swiped my hand across my face to dry my tears.****

As Dad continued to his recliner, Mom and I stood side by side, staring after him. It warmed my heart to see such deep love in her eyes toward him. I'd wanted a happy marriage and a family of my own, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. **_I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter. If I could go back, I'd change so many things, but I do love you, Mommy._**

I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my face. I was going to miss out on the rest of their lives. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

I turned my head as Mary Alice galloped past. Grandma Mazur cackled at the child's antics. **_Oh, Grandma, you'll never know how much you inspired me. I probably would've stayed married to Dickie if it hadn't been for you. I hope you squeeze every bit of happiness out of the time you have left. _**

Mary Alice smiled up at me and I stuck a carrot in her mouth.**_Don't ever change. You're perfect just the way you are._**

As she galloped away, she ran straight into Angie, knocking her books to the ground. I helped her pick them up, and we sat down at the table so she could study. **_Don't let life pass you by while you have your nose in a book._**_**It's Christmas break, Angie, go out and have some fun, your lessons can wait. **_

Valerie plopped down beside me, tired from a day of cooking. I grabbed her hand in mine and squeezed**.****_ I forgive you for tattling on me when we were kids. Don't settle for what other people think is best for you. _**_**You deserve more than you think you do. **_

I got up and walked to the living room. Lisa was holding onto the side of the playpen, singing a song that only she knew the words too, and Bert was lying beside her, kicking his chubby little legs. I leaned down and ran my fingers through their red curls. **_I always thought I had time. One day I was going to have a little baby just as sweet as the two of you. Take care of each other._**

I wiped another tear from my eye as I left my family home for the last time. I blew out a breath. That was harder than I thought it was going to be. Bringing those memories to life in my mind was causing a painful squeeze around my heart. But I had more people I needed to say goodbye to.

I thought about the day I captured Wally Parker and smiled. He was a big bond that I'd been after for three weeks and I was pretty proud of myself when I brought him into the station. Lula was supposed to be waiting for me in the parking lot, but as usual, she left me stranded. When I finally made it back to the bond's office, Lula was sitting on the couch, eating chocolate donuts. As soon as I opened the door a guilty smile lit up her face. I blew out a breath. This was going to be hard because I carried some guilt of my own involving Lula. **_I'm sorry my nosey nature almost got you killed, but I'm so proud of the way you've turned your life around. _**

Connie coughed to get my attention. When I turned around, she was waving my check in the air. **_If it weren't for you, Connie, I never would have become a bounty hunter or met Ranger. Thanks for the encouragement. It truly changed my life. _**

With those parting words, I walked right into chaos.

Mare and I were sitting at her kitchen table, drinking coffee and splitting a cheesecake, while Kenny and Mikey were busy fighting over a Transformer action figure and her newborn daughter slept peacefully through it all. It wasn't often we were able to get together since our lives had gotten complicated, but I'd been trying to be a better friend. My emotions threatened to flood over as I took her hand in mine and told her everything I'd always wanted to say, but never had the time.

**_You've stood by me through every good and bad thing that's ever happened to me. You've listened to my troubles and guarded my secrets. Even though we aren't related through blood, there is no better sister than you. Years from now, when you think about me, do it with laughter—not sadness. Remember the good times at the shore and running through the neighborhood playing Wendy and Peter Pan. And when your children ask about their Aunt Steph, feel free to blame all our misadventures on me. It probably was my fault._**

The next memory that came to mind was bittersweet—unrequited love usually was.

I'd been running from Junkman and hiding in Ranger's apartment. I looked up from his bed to find him leaning against the door frame, looking amazing as he debated whether to throw me out the window. Luckily for me, he chose to get in bed with me and the next morning when I woke up in his arms, I felt butterflies in my stomach. I ran my hand over his chest, kissing his neck and smelling the intoxicating scent of Bvlgari on his skin. **_No one's ever had complete faith in me until you. You make me believe I can do anything. You are the most amazing man I know, and someday, some woman is going to come along and knock the breath right out of you. As much as it pains me to say it, I'm glad I won't be here to see it. _**I fight my tears as I tenderly kiss his lips for the last time. **_I love you, Batman. _******

Saying goodbye to Ranger had rung me out, but there was still one important person left to visit.

Joe and I were sitting in our usual place on his couch eating pizza and watching a hockey game with Bob cuddled beside us. His arms were wrapped around me, and I felt safe and secure—loved. I looked up into his eyes. **_I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with you. _** I take his hand in mine. **_I should have said yes. I should have trusted in your love for me—trusted you'd never cheat on me. If I had, we'd be married by now, and I'd die as Mrs. Joseph Anthony Morelli instead of Stephanie Plum._**Tears run down my face, and I wipe them away._**Mourn me, and then put my memory in a little place in your heart so you have room to love again. Let yourself have the life you deserve.**_I cuddled closer into his arms, feeling content that I had everything I'd ever wanted

When I opened my eyes, the memories weren't as vibrant. I sighed knowing that everything I'd once had was now gone. I was going to miss everyone, but my time on this earth was over. It was over the minute I woke up in this cellar. I fought as hard as I could, but I was no match for the likes of Hunter Durant.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

**Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones**

I was sitting on the bed with my shoulder leaning against the wall when I heard his keys jangling outside the metal door. I was still weak and feverish, but I managed to scoot forward until my feet were touching the floor. I sat as straight as I could, pulling my shoulders back and my chin up, prepared to die.

He breezed in, eyes narrowing when he saw me sitting up with the blanket draped around me in defiance. "I see you're feeling better."

I wasn't any better; I was putting on a brave front for him. The last thing I wanted was for him to sense any weakness. I kept my reaction neutral as he threw the paper bag my way. It landed on the mattress beside my hip. I made no move to catch it. I wouldn't need his hospitality after today.

I stared up at him through swollen eyes, watching the wheels turning in his little brain as he tried to figure out what I was thinking. We were in a standoff of sorts. And then I felt the tickle in my chest growing. I tried to hold it in—to be strong—but the need to cough grew until I couldn't suppress it any longer. I hunched over, hacking and gasping. When I was able to breathe evenly, I gathered my internal strength and stood on shaky legs. This was it. I was now standing nose to nose with a serial killer, getting ready to goad him into ending my life.

His eyes narrowed and his lips flattened as he stared me down. I could see the confusion in his eyes because I wasn't cowering on the bed in fear. I remained steadfast, not looking away, emboldened by my decision. He thought he had all the power, but he was wrong. I'd just taken some of mine back.

The longer I stared at him the redder his face became, until finally, his anger got the better of him, and he yanked the blanket off me, dropping it onto the floor. His eyes roamed up and down my body and then he pasted a twisted smile on his face. "You're looking lovely." He grabbed my protruding hip bones, pulling me flush against his body. His eyes brightened as he bent his knees and ground his pelvis into me. "Soon, you'll take your last breath, and when you do, I'll be inside you—joined together forever as you leave this world."

My mind snapped, leaving me empty and uncaring. I blinked slowly, mouth open, taking short breaths. They say everyone has a breaking point and I guess I'd reached mine. I was going to tell him exactly what I thought of him and hope that when I finished, he'd be so angry he'd end my suffering.

"Oh!" I widened my eyes and looked toward the empty glass case. "Is that for me?" My smile was saccharine sweet as I shook my head. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm glad you like it." He leaned in until his nose was almost touching mine and arched his eyebrow. "You'll be resting in it for eternity."

Goosebumps slid along the back of my neck. If he was trying to scare me, he was doing a damn fine job. I swallowed hard but managed to keep my face from showing the fear that was threatening to overtake me. I let my eyelashes flutter and gave him a coy smile. "What? You don't think I'm special anymore?" That statement was about all I could manage before I grabbed my side and hunched over in a coughing fit.

He waited until I got control of myself and straightened. His lip curled in disgust and his eagle eyes pinned me to the spot. "Emmie made a mistake choosing you. She isn't perfect, but rest assured, my true love is still out there, and Emmie will find her." He walked over to the women, pacing in front of the cases as if he was a professor giving a lecture, dispensing his rhetoric to a captive audience. "My heart is full of love for you all." He addressed them with his hand over his heart as if pledging his allegiance. "Emmie saw something special in each of you. I'd been alone for so long and then she led me to you—my beloved. Each of you are gifts from her, and I will always treasure the love you have given me. Through your love, one day I will be whole again."

I snorted. "You think they love you?" He swung his head around in time to see me shaking with laughter even though it hurt like hell. I gave him a mocking smile as I pointed over his shoulder at the women. "They're repulsed by you. As soon as you leave, they laugh at you."

His eyes narrowed and his jaw went slack. "You're lying!

I bit back a smile as I wiped my nose and stuck my lower lip out in mock pity, voice dripping with sarcasm. "They think it's hilarious when you pull your pathetic little pee-pee out and jerk off in front of them. They know something's not right up here." I tapped my forehead, feeling the sweat pouring off me. "Poor Hunter, whose life was _sooo_ tragic, he can't get his pecker hard by being with a living breathing woman, so he chains them up and starves them. Yeah, sure they love you. You keep telling yourself that."

His eyes bulged before he was able to get himself under control. I thought he was going to slug me any second, but he backed up and started shaking his head in disgust. "You were supposed to love me. How could Emmie have gotten it so wrong?"

"Love you?" I balled my hands into fists at my side, groaning through the pain as I took a step toward him. "You're insane. How could anyone love a man like you? A man who's afraid to get punished by his mommy so he left his sister to die." His head snapped back as if I'd struck him, and his chest rose and fell in quick succession. I slid my feet along the concrete, taking another step in his direction, feeling lighter with every word. "Surely you could have saved her if you hadn't run home like a baby. Poor little Emmie, she was so hungry while she waited for her brother to come and save her." I was surprised at the cruel words coming out of my mouth. They sounded nothing like me.

As his eyes bore into mine, he clenched and unclenched his hands, grinding his teeth, barely restraining his anger. I was hoping he'd let go. I was ready for the fallout. In fact, I was looking forward to it.

He walked closer, stabbing his finger at me. "You know nothing!" he screamed as spittle flew from his mouth, landing on my cheek. "I was a scared little kid. Emmie understands it wasn't my fault."

Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? I covered my mouth and yawned.

"She should be worried about ME being mad at HER." He yelled. "This is the second time she's chosen a woman unworthy of me. First, that whore Ashley, and now you." He ended his tirade and stood quietly—too quietly. I wish I knew what was going on in his head. "On second thought, I don't think I will let you rest with the others. I won't have you turning them against me with your filthy mouth."

Before I took things too far, I'd give him one final opportunity to do the right thing. "You can show Emmie you've grown up to be someone she can be proud of." I spoke carefully, doing my best to control my tone. "All you have to do is let me go."

"You know nothing about what Emmie wants." He glanced at me sideways, clenching his jaw as he took in a deep breath. "I'm not sure what I'll do with you, but you won't be leaving."

Tendrils of fear worked their way past my resolve. The urge to apologize was increasing. Maybe I could still salvage my situation. Maybe I could convince him to keep me alive and live to fight another day. Maybe someone would find me. But before any of that could happen, I was racked with more violent coughs, reminding me that I was already dying. With no doctor or medicine, survival seemed hopeless. When the coughing cleared, my spine straightened, bolstered by an influx of adrenaline. "You can kidnap and kill hundreds of women, but none of them will ever love you." I looked him up and down, sneering. "You're pathetic."

He grabbed me by the throat and squeezed—not hard enough to crush, but hard enough that I started squirming. His lips curled and his nostril's flared as his breathing increased. "Stupid cow!" He barked out a laugh. "You think I'm pathetic? No one even cares that you're missing. Your mother was so eager to pawn you off that she invited a total stranger to her house to meet her daughter." Something in my eyes must have shown him that he'd hit his target. And then he smiled as if he knew a delicious secret. "And those two idiots that were sniffing around you have moved on to greener pastures. While you pine away for them, they're not even looking for you. The cop has already replaced you with a new bimbo and the other one… the one with all the muscles… he searched for you for about five minutes and then he left town again. So, it looks like I'm not the only one who isn't satisfied with what you have to offer."

I wanted to scream at him… to rage in his face… but all I could do was stand there and listen to his hurtful words tunneling their way into my brain like an infection. My face felt like it was burning with the shame of inadequacy. His words were hitting me like physical blows, cutting to the heart of all my insecurities. In a matter of seconds, he'd done more damage than he had in all the weeks I'd been here.

He was smiling at me with a satisfied smirk, knowing his words had hit their mark. While I was down, he was going to finish me off. He drew his arm back and backhanded me across the face. I fell backward onto the floor and moaned as every bone in my body was jarred. The pain had me gasping for breath and I curled into myself, trying to make it better.

He stood over me, baring his teeth, chest heaving. I made no attempt to get up. I was hoping he'd finish me off. Through my tears, I gave him a halfhearted smile and muttered. "No one could love something like you. Not your mother. Not your father. Not even your twin sister. You're going to die like Emmie did… all alone."

He snarled and drew his booted foot back kicking me in the head. After that I saw nothing else.

* * *

Sometime later, I woke with my head pounding and my eyes crusted shut. When the urge to cough hit me, it felt like a volcano of fire was erupting in my chest. My breathing was shallow and harsh, and if I wasn't sure before if some of my ribs were broken… I was now. I was in so much pain I couldn't decide where it hurt most, but to my dismay, I was still alive.

A wave of anger hit me—hard. Provoking him to quickly end my life had backfired. All this pain had been for nothing. My tears were loosening the crusted gunk around my swollen eyelids. I gently rubbed them, helping to pry the lids apart, wincing as I slowly blinked. My vision was blurry, but I was able to see that I was lying on the floor in a puddle of blood and he was gone.

By the time I pulled myself up onto the bed, I was dripping sweat even though my teeth were chattering. My fever had gotten worse while I'd been knocked out. I wasn't sure how long a person could maintain a high temperature without severe complications. Mine had been spiking and then easing off intermittently for a while.

My hand grazed over the paper bag lying on the bed. I was surprised to find he'd left it. Most likely, he'd forgotten he'd dropped it after we tangled both verbally and physically. I certainly didn't think he was going to go out of his way to keep me alive any longer. What was in this bag was probably the last food and drink I'd ever get. After pulling the blanket over me, I passed out again.

* * *

Doctors warn not to go to sleep after a head injury, so I was a little surprised when I woke up. I was only able to stay alert for minutes at a time, drinking and eating a little before I passed out again. Thanks to him, I knew exactly what to expect when my food and water was gone.

I could already feel my body shutting down.

My predicament reminded me of a movie I'd once seen. It was about a man who had his arm wedged between two boulders. Just like me, he knew he was going to starve to death if he didn't do something. Lucky for him, he had a weapon. He was able to free his trapped arm by cutting it off. It occurred to me that I could do something similar. I didn't have a knife, but I'd heard of people dislocating their thumbs, allowing them to slip out of cuffs.

Maybe it would work for me.

It was a good plan, but what would I do with only one arm free? What was the point if the rest of me was still shackled?

For one thing, I'd have a two-foot length of chain with a thick metal cuff dangling off my hand. Surely, it would do some damage if I hit him with it. If I was successful in overpowering him, I could take the keys and escape. Hitting him in the head was the most logical choice. It would do the most damage. I looked down at the bed. It was situated right beside the door, close enough that if I stood on it, I would be at his level. I could swing the chain as he came through the door and knock him out. It was a risk, but I was starting to feel pretty good about my plan. Thanks to him, I didn't have anything left to lose. But I needed to do it soon because my strength was waning.

I looked around for something heavy enough to break or dislocate my thumb. The only thing of substantial weight within reach was the leg of my metal bed. It only had two legs in the front because the back was attached to the wall on hinges, allowing him the option of pushing it up and out of the way when he didn't have a woman down here. The legs were thick metal, and I thought they'd be bulky enough to do damage. That is, if I could slam the leg down hard enough on my hand.

Since I was right-handed, I'd need to make sure to break the left hand because I was going to need my right one to sling the chain at his head and to unlock my other shackles so I could get out of here. I slid off the bed onto my knees and lay my left forearm flat on the concrete, thumb side up. Before I could think too much about the pain involved, I raised the metal leg of the bed about a foot and a half off the floor. Holding it, I took a steadying breath and slammed it down.

My hand exploded in pain. The kind of blinding agony I'd never felt before.

I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't see.

It seemed never ending.

I slid my throbbing hand out from under the metal leg, cradling it to my chest as I collapsed onto my back—gasping, but unable to take in any air. Slowly, my vision returned and so did my breath. A long moan erupted, starting small and getting louder. And then the tears came. Ignoring my pain, I tried to slide the cuff off, but it would only slide down a little, not nearly far enough. When I realized I was going to have to hit it again, the moaning sound I'd been making turned into a pitiful whimper.

The tears were coming so fast they were blurring my vision, and my hand was throbbing in time with the pounding in my head. For a minute, I debated stopping—just giving up—but I'd already come this far. I had to finish this. I took a deep breath and lifted the leg again. Just as I was about to slam it down, I slid my hand out of the way and dropped the leg back onto the floor. I was crying so hard my face was drenched in tears and snot was running into my open mouth.

There was no way I could do it again. No fucking way.

I gave myself a few minutes to calm down and then blew out a few breaths as I psyched myself up again. It was time to get this done. I took another deep breath… and another… and then I lifted the leg. At the same time I slammed the leg down; I jerked my arm away again. I sobbed harder. I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. Oh, please… I couldn't do it.

My brain was giving me conflicting information. It was telling me if I wanted to live, this was my only choice, but it was also objecting to inflicting more pain on myself. Just when I was ready to give up, Ranger's voice whispered in my ear. _This is the only way, Babe. The pain will be brief and when it's over, you can come home. I'll be waiting for you. _

As if he was standing right here with me, his dark eyes stared into mine, infusing me with the strength to do what needed to be done. An eerie calm came over me and I took one last, deep breath before slamming the leg of the bed down as hard as I could. The pain that followed was ten times worse than the first time. It was coming from everywhere all at once. Time seemed to stop and then everything turned black.

When I came too, I was lying on the floor and it felt like someone was constantly hammering on the bones in my hand. Pain radiated from the tips of my fingers all the way up my shoulder in waves that wouldn't stop. All I could focus on was the pain. Nothing else mattered. But some tiny part of my brain was sending a warning message to me to hurry up. I looked down at my hand, noticing the swelling.

Shit! I frantically started tugging on the cuff, needing to get it off quickly. I couldn't stomach the thought that I'd gone through all of this for nothing. As I tugged, the metal rolled over my skin, tearing it and grinding the shattered bones against each other. I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain until I was able to pull off the shackle.

I did it. I had one hand free. But I was in a world of pain. I fell over onto my back and just lay there.

Sometime later, when the pain had dissipated enough that I could start thinking again, I slowly managed to get to my feet. My body trembled with the effort and I had to guard my hand against any unnecessary movement. As soon as I steadied myself, I began practicing my swing. I anchored my bare feet to the floor and swung the cuff at the wall, hitting the block and sending chunks of concrete flying. I smiled, proud of myself. This was going to do a lot of damage to that pretty face of his.

The timing had to be right, and I had to use all my strength, but I was sure I could take him down. He'd never see it coming.

He hadn't met the real Stephanie Plum—but he was about too.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

**Do You Feel Lucky**

I stood on the edge of the bed with my back against the wall, heart hammering in my chest, hoping any minute he'd walk through the door. With my right hand, I gripped the chain dangling from the cuff still attached to my wrist. Since my collar was still connected to the tether, I couldn't get as close to the door as I'd like, but if I stretched my neck, keeping it at an awkward angle, I was sure the shackle would reach him. My plan was to knock him unconscious as soon as he entered the room, giving me time to get the keys and get out. Everything hinged on the element of surprise.

It was essential that I remain as quiet as possible so as not to give away my position, which meant coughing had to be kept to a minimum. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, the need hit me again. I tried to hold it back, but it was impossible. I tucked my chin against my neck and kept my mouth closed, only coughing enough to keep me from strangling on the mucus and congestion breaking up in my chest. Between the coughing and throbbing in my hand I was a miserable mess. My left hand was swollen to twice its normal size and the only way to tolerate the unbearable pain was to keep it safely cradled against my chest, guarding against any unnecessary movement.

I'd been waiting so long, my legs were shaking, and sweat dotted my forehead and palms, making it difficult to maintain my grip on the chain. Occasionally, I glanced down at the bed, wanting nothing more than to collapse on it. But every time I thought my legs would buckle from the strain, I heard Ranger's voice whisper, _Babe, I'm right here with you. We're going to do this together._

When clinking sounds came from the other side of the door, an icy calm washed over me. The door swung open, and as soon as he stepped through, I let my mind go blank, silently chanting, _please, please, please, let this work, _before swinging the chain as hard as I could.

The shackle made a cracking sound as it hit him in the center of his forehead. For a second, he was stunned, and then he fell to his knees, lurching sideways, landing further away than I'd anticipated. I stood frozen until the shackle swung back around, hitting me in the leg, startling me into motion. It hurt like a bitch, but I didn't have time to cry over a minor wound when my life was at stake.

I stepped down from the bed as quickly as I could while trying not to bend my midsection. I winced as my broken ribs shifted against each other sending a fiery pain slicing through my side. I had no choice but to stop and try to breathe through the pain. When it receded enough for me to move, I dropped to my knees, crawling, one handed, to his motionless body lying face down on the floor a few feet away. The cold concrete dug into my knees, but I was able to pull and tug on his pant leg, until inch by inch, most of his body was within reach.

I sat back on my haunches, skin damp with sweat and breathing hard, but I didn't dare take my eyes off his face as I felt around in his coat pocket for the keys. I had no idea if he was faking or if he was unconscious. For all I knew he could open his eyes any minute and grab me. I'd seen too many horror movies to know how this goes.

I groaned in frustration when his pockets yielded no keys. I knew he'd had them, but where? Then a glint of metal on the other side of his head caught my eyes. He must have dropped them when I hit him. I stretched my right arm as far as I could, but I couldn't reach. When I drew my arm back, the loose shackle caught on his flannel shirt. It occurred to me that I could use the shackle to drag the keys to me as if casting a fishing line.

I gathered all the chain links in my right hand and threw the shackle on the other side of the keys. It banged loudly on the concrete, but I hadn't gotten it far enough.

_Shit! Did he just move? _I jerked my hand away, watching him warily.

I waited and watched, sighing when he didn't move again. I shook my head feeling stupid for scaring myself. I was letting my imagination run away with me and I was wasting valuable time. I threw the shackle twice more before I got it on the other side of the keys and gently started pulling them toward me. They slid along easily until his lifeless arm blocked the path. This was as far as I could get them with the shackle. I reached with my good hand again, but they were still too far away.

The left side of my body was closer. Maybe if I used my injured hand, I could reach them, but even if I could, it would hurt like hell and I wasn't sure I could maintain my grip long enough to pull them to me. But I had to try. I moaned and whimpered as I stretched out with my left hand. My system flooded with joy when my middle finger caught on the key ring. My focus was solely on the keys, willing my fingers to hold on and not drop them. It was working. I almost had the keys over his arm when I saw a sudden flash of movement.

I didn't even have time to scream before he was squeezing my broken hand. "You didn't think you were leaving, did you?" His eyes looked crazed as his punishing grip got harder. I howled in agony as my vision turned into a dark haze. This couldn't be how it ended. I wouldn't let it.

I fumbled around on the floor with my right hand, frantically searching for the only weapon I had. I was getting desperate…. one more minute and I'd probably pass out from the pain and then it would all be over. I found the chain and grabbed it, pulling the links closer until I had the empty cuff firmly in my hand. It was my version of brass knuckles.

I was only going to get this one chance to finish this. I had to do as much damage as possible. I drew back and hit him with everything I had in me. His eyes bulged and his mouth hung open when he saw the cuff coming straight for him, but there was nothing he could do, my hand was already in motion.

The metal cuff plowed into his head and he fell over, landing on his back. He lay there dazed for a minute but recovered much too quickly. Before I could bring my arm back for another hit, he was on top of me with his hands around my neck. Blood was starting to trickle down his face, landing on me. For a minute, my mind went blank and I didn't know what to do.

I was on the cusp of passing out and my body went completely lax. The cuff fell from my hand and I thought—this is it—this is how I die. His face split into a slow smile as he loosened his hold around my neck. While I was concentrating on finally getting breath back into my lungs, he leaned back and began unbuttoning his pants. "I told you we would be joined together when you left this world." I could see the outline of his hardness and knew he was going to rape me. This was what he'd been waiting for. He finally considered me ready.

Desperate to get away, I felt around on the floor with my right hand until I touched the abandoned cuff. I grabbed hold of it and just as he was pulling his penis out, I hit him in the head again. His eyes widened as he lunged for my throat. A wildness came over me and I began hitting his back, his head, his ribs… anywhere and everywhere I could. It didn't matter where my hits landed as long as I was hitting something. I gave him one final blow to the head and to my astonishment, he fell on top of me, unmoving.

I was breathing heavily; his weight too much to bear. I was afraid to put the shackle down, but I needed my hand free to push him off me. I decided I had to do it, or I was going to die from lack of oxygen. I laid the shackle on the floor beside my hip so I could reach it easily and started struggling to get out from under him. When I was free, I grabbed the shackle again and sat up, poised to attack if need be.

I got up on my knees, breathing hard and watching him for any signs of movement. He wasn't going to trick me again. I was pretty sure I'd severely injured him, but I'd been wrong before. Just to be safe, I let go of the cuff and let it dangle before grabbing the chain links close to my wrist and swinging the cuff at him like he'd swung his belt at me. It hit him on his face, then his stomach, and then his groin. It felt good—too good—so I kept going. Chaos swirled inside me as I hit him for each time he ripped my skin open with his belt. For each time he put his filthy hands on me. And for what he did to the women in the cases. Nothing else mattered but making him hurt.

I didn't stop until I was physically unable to raise my arm again.

Then I passed out.

* * *

The burning sensation in my hands finally broke through my unconsciousness. My eyes fluttered open and I found myself lying on the floor, face to face with Durant. His eyes were shut, and blood was running freely from his mangled face, dropping onto the concrete.

_Was he dead?_

I ignored the pain in my hands while I watched to see if he was breathing. When I saw his chest rise and fall, I was instantly on guard, but the pain in my hands was getting more persistent, reminding me something was wrong. I slowly lifted them for inspection. I already knew the left one was broken and swollen, but the swelling had increased to an alarming size. Just moving it caused me to see stars. The right one had a deep cut across the palm, from the shackle digging into my skin, and blood was running down my forearm. The shackle itself was dangling on the concrete, waiting to be of further service.

"The keys!" The women screamed in unison. "Get the keys!" I jerked my head in their direction to find them pointing behind me.

When I turned around, I saw the keys lying centimeters from Durant's hand. My heart raced as I gauged the likelihood of him pretending to be unconscious. I was afraid as soon as I reached for them, he'd grab me again. I watched him carefully while I inched my hand closer. When I had them clenched in my trembling hand, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I shifted through them, one by one, bypassing the key fob and mini flashlight. My hands were covered in both our blood, making them slippery as I tried fitting each one in the locks at my ankles and then my wrists, all the while keeping my eyes on Durant to make sure he was still knocked out. Every scary movie I'd ever seen played out in my mind, ratcheting up my fear that any minute he was going to wake up and overpower me.

I finally got my legs free and began working on my right wrist, unlocking it as quickly as my broken hand would allow. As soon as I slipped it off, his leg twitched. I dropped the keys down and grabbed the cuff I'd just taken off. I held it in my hand and let the other cuff dangle from the chain, getting ready to swing it at him if he lunged.

His finger moved. I think.

Maybe, I imagined it.

I waited.

Shit! I was wasting time. Some of my earlier adrenaline had left me and I was in danger of crashing. I didn't want to do it. I wasn't a brutal person, but I couldn't let him wake up, I still had the collar around my neck, and I needed to get it off and get out of here before he woke up. I swung the shackle at his head… once… twice… and waited.

It seemed like I waited forever, but he didn't move.

The open door beckoned to me, but I still had to find the key that fit my collar. My hand trembled and was slick with blood, but after a couple tries, I was able to release it from around my neck. Relief like nothing I'd ever felt before flooded through me. I was completely free, and I was going home. I got to my feet and took a step toward the door, forgetting my naked state, and slipped in the blood, almost going down. What was I thinking? I couldn't go out there naked. It was the middle of winter in the Pine Barren's and I wasn't sure how far I'd have to walk until I found help. I considered grabbing the blanket, but it wasn't enough protection and what about my feet?

I needed clothes. I had no choice. I was going to have to undress him.

My energy was fading, and both hands were hurting badly, but I plowed forward. I used my right hand to unbuckle his belt and slide it out of the loops. I held it in my hand, thinking it was ironic that I was the one with the power now. I through it across the room, out of his reach and unbuttoned his pants. As I tugged them down, his underwear came with them, and because of my position, his penis rubbed against the side of my face. I wanted to gag, but there was no time to give in to my feelings. I had to get the shackles transferred onto him and get the hell out of here.

Next, I tugged his coat off and ripped his flannel shirt down the center, unwilling to take the time undoing all those buttons. Once he was completely naked, I shackled his wrists and ankles and put the collar around his neck. Immediately, I felt better knowing he was secured.

I spread his clothes out on the floor, checking the pockets for a phone or weapons. I found nothing.

I tossed the underwear to the side, unwilling to put them on. His socks, however, were going to feel marvelous on my cold feet. I quickly pulled them on, getting blood all over the white cotton, and slipped my legs into his jeans, carefully rolling up the legs with only one hand. His boots were next. They were several sizes too big, so I had to tie the laces tight, adding my broken hand to help only when necessary. I worked frantically while keeping my eye on him even though he hadn't moved since the last time I hit him.

Since I'd ripped the buttons off his flannel shirt, I was forced to wrap one side over the other before hastily tucking it into the jeans and then rolling the waist band down to help them stay up. By the time I pulled on his coat and grabbed the keys, I was panting and so damn tired I wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a year.

I surveyed his naked form, laying lifeless on the concrete and smiled before lifting my chin and giving him a parting wave. "Goodbye, Princess."

With one final nod to the women, I shut the door behind me and was instantly plunged into darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

**Miles to Go Before I Sleep **

It was so dark I couldn't see a blasted thing, but I wasn't about to turn back and open the door again just so I could get some light. As far as I was concerned that door would open again over my dead body. Frantically, I began flipping through the key ring until I felt the mini flashlight. When I turned it on, I saw three latches with padlocks resting on hooks, waiting to be refastened. They were positioned at eye level, waist level, and close to the ground. My hands trembled as I lifted the padlocks one at a time and fixed the latches across before clicking the locks back into place.

Now that the door was secured, I leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief. It felt great having one more barrier between him and me. As I mentally high fived myself, I flicked the flashlight beam around and saw a set of concrete steps leading upward. A part of me wanted to run right up them to freedom, but another part—a bigger part—was scared he had lied and there really was someone living upstairs. And what if they were even more evil than Durant.

I wished I had a weapon—something to defend myself against whatever was waiting for me above—but I'd been so focused on getting out of that room that I hadn't taken the time to look through his boxes for his knife or anything else that would be of use.

_Damn. Damn. Damn._

I wanted to kick myself for not having the foresight. The only thing I had was the keys in my hand and a tiny flashlight to defend myself with. It was too late to go back now, and I couldn't stay in this stairwell forever. I needed to get to a doctor… soon. I separated the keys, sticking one between each of the fingers on my right hand, making an impromptu weapon. It was the best I could do.

I raised my foot to take the first step, and because of the bulky weight of his oversized boots I missed and scraped my shin on the sharp edge of the concrete stair as I went down. I threw my right arm in front of me hoping to brace the fall, but it did nothing to lessen the jarring impact to my broken ribs. The red haze of agony blinded me, and I screamed. I just lay there on the cold concrete, unable to do anything but wait for the pain to ease.

It could have been minutes or hours; I had no way of knowing. During that time, I was powerless to do anything. Finally, I lifted my head and looked up the dark stairs. Overwhelming despair came over me and even though I was so close, I thought I still might not make it out of here alive. As soon as that thought entered my mind, I shook it away. There was no room for that kind of thinking. I was going to make it, I told myself. I wouldn't accept any other outcome.

Summoning my dwindling energy, I rolled onto my side before getting on my knees and then finally making it to my feet. This time, as I took a step up, I leaned against the wall for support and made sure to lift my foot high enough to clear the edge of the stair. I felt immense accomplishment when I put my weight on it and dragged my other foot up with me. I continued, clumsily shuffling up the stairs, until the top of my head hit something metal.

Shining the light around, I could see a rectangular shape and realized it was the trap door he'd told me about. I gave it a hefty push, but it didn't budge. I looked around the edges to see why and discovered another padlock at one end of the sheet of metal. I let the flashlight dangle from the key ring while my blood slickened fingers tried each key until I found the one that opened the lock.

By the time I had the latch opened, I was breathing hard, and my heart was pounding against my broken ribs. On one hand, I was excited to get out of the stairwell and on the other, I was afraid of what was on the other side of the door. Taking advantage of my only weapon, I put the keys back between my fingers and took a moment to push the fearful thoughts out of my head. After a calming breath, I began inching the door up.

The metal slab had barely moved and already rays of daylight began streaming in. Seeing the physical evidence of freedom sent a surge of happiness all the way to my toes. I took another step up the stairs, lifting the door as I went, until I was standing on the very top step and could feel the frigid air blowing on my skin. The sun was so blinding I had to put my hand over my eyes to shield them. As soon as I did, I dropped the lock and it bounced down the concrete stairs, landing with a distinctive clank at the bottom. I had thought I would re-secure the door after I got outside as an added measure of security against him, but I guess it didn't matter now. I certainly wasn't going back down there to get it. And besides, he was chained up in shackles, and the downstairs door was locked securely with three padlocks. That would have to be enough.

I gave the door one last shove and it fell over, landing on the ground with a thud. I wanted to run to safety, but I couldn't see a damn thing. I'd been underground for so long it felt like knives were stabbing my eyes. As much as I hated it, I was going to have to give them time to adjust to the light. I inhaled deeply. It felt glorious to be breathing fresh air for the first time in weeks.

After what seemed like an eternity, yet was probably only mere minutes, I cracked my eyes open and found the light was still intense, but bearable. I looked down at the metal slab, lying on the ground and wondered what to do. I couldn't leave it open. I knelt down and managed to lift it with my right hand and drop it back into place. That's when I noticed the pine needles covering it hadn't scattered as they should have. I ran my boot over them, trying to get them to move, but they still didn't budge. Somehow, they were affixed to the door. It was no wonder no one ever found Durant's lair. If I hadn't just come through the door myself, I'd never have known anything was down there.

A gust of wind came through the trees, sending my hair flying against my face. I shivered and pulled his coat tighter. I thought it'd been cold in the cellar, but it was absolutely freezing out here. Looking around I could see he was telling the truth; we were in the Pine Barrens, but which way should I run?

I turned in a circle, zeroing in on a large pine tree about thirty feet from the hatch. It had gnarled bark on the trunk with deformed black patches that looked like eyes and a wide gaping hole where a mouth would be. It was oddly frightening. I couldn't take my eyes off it. While I stared, I noticed a glint of sunlight reflecting off something metal to the left of the tree. Just then, a bird screeched overhead, jerking me into action.

Realizing the key fob belonged to a car of some sort, I pointed it at the glinting metal and pressed the unlock button. Red lights blinked twice along with two high pitched beeping sounds. As I moved closer, I could make out the shape of a green truck hidden under a mound of foliage. I brushed the debris away from the driver's door and got in, breathing a sigh as I closed the door.

My hands were trembling so badly, the keys slipped through my blood slicked fingers just as I was about to start the ignition. They landed near the gas pedal and out of reach. "Shit," I groaned and smacked the steering wheel with my good hand, knowing that my broken ribs were going to make it difficult to get them. I decided it would be easier to just get out of the truck and lean in to get the keys instead of bending my body into a pretzel that would put pressure on my chest.

I looked around before opening the door to make sure he hadn't managed to get free. Once I had established that I was still safe, I slid out of the truck and into the cold. Carefully, I leaned in and grabbed the keys. Now that they were finally back in my hand, I was able to get back in the truck and fit the key in the ignition. To my relief the truck started on the first try. I put it in reverse and hit the gas.

The tires spun on patches of wet leaves and just when I thought I was going to have to get back out again and push, they found traction and shot out of the makeshift parking spot, sending forest debris flying. I didn't know which direction to head. I'd never been a girl scout. I couldn't look at the sun and determine which way was North or what time of day it was. I did see a dirt trail up ahead and that's where I headed. I only hoped I was going in the right direction and not deeper into the woods.

My eyes alternated between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, afraid that he was somehow able to escape and come after me. Rationally, I knew it was impossible. I'd tried for weeks to find a way out and hadn't been successful, but maybe he knew something I didn't. Maybe he had a failsafe for just this type of scenario.

I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of life, but so far, I hadn't come upon a single home. There were only trees, trees, and more trees. I looked at the clock on the dash and realized I'd been driving for about thirty minutes. Now that I'd put some distance between me and the cellar, I realized I was shaking like a leaf and feeling every one of my injuries. Thanks to my body's surge of adrenaline, I'd been able to put one foot in front of the other, but now I was crashing. My body temperature seemed to be plummeting right along with my adrenaline. I used the elbow of my broken hand to stabilize the steering wheel while I turned on the heat.

Now that the truck was getting warm, my eyes started growing heavy. I had to keep blinking and jerking my head to avoid falling asleep at the wheel. I'd just closed my eyes and was about to nod off when several shrill sounds jerked me awake. I blinked, trying to figure out what was going on and realized the sound was coming from the console between the seats. I stopped in the middle of the dirt lane and opened the console. I gasped when I saw a cell phone inside. "Yes." I whispered. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

I grabbed the phone, realizing he must have set an alarm and that was why it had started blaring. Grateful he'd left it unlocked, I turned off the alarm and switched to the phone app. I pressed the numbers 9 and 1 and then I halted. If I called 911, they'd need my location and the only information I had to pass along was that I was in the Pine Barrens, but the area was so vast, there was no way to easily find me. I didn't have time for them to get permission to run a trace on this phone. I needed help now. Ranger was my best option. He had all the resources to locate me, and he'd be faster.

I placed my finger on the screen and froze. "Damnit!" I couldn't remember Ranger's number or Morelli's either. Technology had spoiled me with the ability to scroll through my contacts and simply push a button. I decided the best thing to do was Google Rangeman's main number. After locating it and putting the phone on speaker, I dropped it in my lap. As it rang, I started driving again.

"Rangeman, how may I direct your call?"

"Hal?" I whispered, so relieved to hear a familiar voice, I broke down in sobs.

He paused as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Stephanie?" He excitedly called out. "Where are you?"

"Somewhere in the Pine Barrens… I think." I said in between crying and coughing as the congestion in my chest rattled and broke up. "I took his truck. He's going to come after me."

"I've initiated a trace, just stay on the line with me, and keep driving. Don't stop or hang up."

"Okay," I said in a weak voice. Now that I'd finally talked to someone, I felt the fight leaving me, and all the aches and pains I'd been able to ignore were back full force.

"Ranger's on his way, I'm going to patch you through to him," Hal said. "Don't hang up."

In the next instant, I heard the most beautiful word. "Babe?"

Suddenly hearing his voice sent a pang of longing straight to my heart and I let out a whimper. "Ranger!" I sobbed. "My family—my nieces—are they okay?"

"Everyone's fine. Are you hurt?" He didn't hesitate, and I knew he was telling me the truth.

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "He was going to kill me." I sniffed as the emotions consumed me. "I'm sick… and my hand is broken." Stringing those words together took more energy than I had. I released a shuddering breath. "It hurts to breathe… And my eyes are swollen. I can't see very well." My stomach muscles seized, and tears streamed down my face as I started coughing.

"Listen to me. Stephanie… Steph, are you listening? I want you to be strong for a just a little while longer."

"He tried to kill me, but I fought him." I sniffed as I struggled to get the words out before I broke down.

"I'm proud of you, Babe. You're the strongest person I know." He was emphatic and more desperate than I'd ever heard him. "Just hold on. I'm almost there."

I was afraid that even with all my efforts Ranger wasn't going to make it to me in time. I was fading fast, but I still had one important thing I needed to say before it was too late. "I never say it. I didn't want to die without telling everyone." I stammered breathlessly in between coughing and crying. "Tell my family I love them—please. I love…"

Before I could tell him I love him, a shadowy figure emerged from the forest, and stood in the middle of the road. "It's him," I said breathlessly, my mind racing, trying to understand how Durant could have gotten out.

"Who?" Ranger asked as I slammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel. "Stephanie, answer me!" The truck went off the road, turning over as it careened along the ditch, finally coming to a stop as it crashed into a tree. I cracked my head on the window and everything went black.

"Babe!"

I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to, my head was against the driver's side window and the truck was upside down. I heard someone yelling my name. "Ranger?" I whispered and then remembered I'd been talking to him. I had no idea where the phone was, and there was no time to look for it. Smoke was coming from the engine and I smelled gas.

I used my good hand to awkwardly push the door open. Since the truck was upside down, I fell out onto the ground, and nearly blacked out again as my ribs crunched against each other.

"Stephanie!"

I got to my feet, staggering as I quickly put distance between the truck and me. I didn't notice the phone falling into the grass, but I heard Ranger's frantic voice, screaming my name. And then the explosion knocked me back to the ground. When I came around, I was lying face down with debris from the truck all around me. I was too close. The heat from the burning truck was scorching my skin and the smell of burning rubber was so strong I could taste it.

I raised up on my arm, testing my ability to turn over and groaned in misery. I slowly sat up and looked around for Durant. I didn't see him anywhere. Had I imagined him in the road? My ears were ringing, and I knew the explosion could have been heard from miles away. If he'd managed to get out of the cellar, he could follow the smoke to find me. I had to get off the road.

I slowly got to my feet, forcing my battered body to obey as I hiked my pants up around my waist, and took off for the tree line in a clumsy gait, hampered by boots that were too big. The bitter cold wind cut through my clothes, making me shiver and causing me to trip over fallen limbs and underbrush. I ran blindly, branches slashing across my face, stinging me with each swipe. I had no way of knowing if I was going in the right direction. I could be running straight back to the cellar for all I knew.

The longer I ran, the more I gasped for breath. Violent coughs nearly sent me to the ground, but I knew if I went down, I wouldn't be getting back up. I was running out of steam. I took a few more desperate steps before I tripped over a root, and went hurtling down a rocky embankment, banging into each jutting rock and log along the way. I finally came to an abrupt stop when I crashed into a boulder, headfirst.

For a moment, my vision brightened, blinding me with its intensity and in that one split second before it all stopped, I knew I wasn't going to make it, but I still considered it a win. I wasn't going to end up in the glass case. I wasn't going to be his wife for eternity and watch him do this to another woman. The brightness turned dark, and then nothing else mattered.


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

**Good Things Come to Those Who Wait**

Ranger came flying out of his office just in time to hear Hal say that Stephanie was somewhere in the Pine Barren's. He barely slowed as he headed to the stairs, motioning for Hal to transfer her call to his cell. Tank was following on Ranger's heels, with Hector, Lester, Woody, Vince, Bones, and Cal close behind.

"Babe," Ranger said as he jumped in the Cayenne with Tank riding shotgun. As he pealed out of the garage, Stephanie's beautiful voice came through the car speakers.

"Ranger." Her voice trembled.

He nearly wept at the sound of his name coming from her lips. She was alive, and for the first time in weeks, he was able to breathe. As she spoke, her voice grew weaker. He heard the pain every time she coughed, and the relief he'd been feeling moments ago changed back to fear. When she asked him to tell her family she loved them, he knew she was more than just sick, she was giving up. He couldn't allow that. She had to fight a little longer. He wasn't lying when he told her she was the strongest woman he knew.

He was speeding down 295 South, gripping the steering wheel tightly, and pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor when the explosion blasted through the speakers. His foot halted on the accelerator. "Babe!" he called out.

Time stood still as both men held their breath—listening. When they didn't hear a response, Ranger's pleas became desperate. "Stephanie, answer me!" Each time she didn't answer, his chest grew tighter. The vein on the side of his neck throbbed as it worked hard to pump blood to his pounding heart.

Tank stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he watched his friend struggling to keep it together. He'd never seen so many emotions coming from Ranger. If Stephanie died, he didn't think Ranger would be able to deal with it—and that explosion didn't sound good. In fact, he feared they might be on their way to collect her body instead of rescuing her. He ran his hand over his shaved head, wiping away the perspiration, and dialed the control room. "There was an explosion on the line and the call was dropped," he told Hal. "I need eyes in the sky over the Pine Barrens. Have them look for smoke or other signs of a crash. We need to know where it is—NOW!" Tank's voice boomed throughout the car. "And get EMS to the scene as soon as it's located."

After Stephanie's call ended, Ranger didn't say another word. He'd retreated inside himself. His driving was precise, as usual, but the speed was dangerously fast. They made the hour-long trip in half the time, leaving the convoy of Rangeman vehicles to follow in their wake as best they could.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the Pine Barren's, snow had already blanketed the area, and more was falling by the second. Tank spotted smoke billowing up through the trees. "That way," he pointed, but Ranger was already turning down the narrow road.

They were going in blind—not sure which of the winding roads would lead them to Stephanie. Their only guide was the helicopter pilot, advising them when to turn right or left. Ranger squeezed the steering wheel as he maneuvered through the twists and turns of roads that were little more than dirt trails. Because of the snow, visibility was poor, forcing him to slow the Cayenne to a crawl. The last thing he wanted to do was slow down, but if he didn't, he might end up in a ditch unable to help Stephanie.

As if thinking it made it happen, he hit a rut in the road and the Cayenne bounced and pulled to the left. "Damnit!" he cursed under his breath as he righted the vehicle back onto the road. He took two more turns and then came around a bend in the road and screeched to a stop, just feet from a smoldering truck. It was resting upside down with the driver's side door lying on the ground several feet away. He threw the Cayenne in park and jumped out.

"Stephanie!" he called out as he got as close to the intense heat as he dared. He looked inside the vehicle for her but didn't see anything. "She's not in there." He exhaled a ragged breath of relief as he circled the wreck, calling out to her repeatedly while searching for her body lying on the ground.

When he didn't find her, he started checking the ground for any tracks she might have made as she left the scene, but the newly fallen snow had covered any footprints leading away from the crash site, making it hard to determine which way she might have gone.

"Stephanie!" Ranger called louder, focusing his voice in all directions. When he didn't get an answer, he called again and then kept calling for her as he widened the perimeter, hoping to hear her response.

Tank followed Ranger's lead, doubling their effort to find her quickly, but his attention was diverted when, minutes later, the Merrymen arrived on the scene, followed by an ambulance. He quickly set up a grid search, pointing at each two-man team. "Hector and Lester, take the north, Cal and Woody, go east, Bones and Vince, head west." He checked his watch. "The sun will set soon, and with the temperature below freezing, she won't last long." He gave each man a meaningful look. "Find her."

Without another word, Tank took off heading south after Ranger, while the other teams fanned out in the direction of their assigned quadrants carefully searching the ground and underbrush for Stephanie.

Twenty minutes into his search, Lester walked by a boulder and would have kept on walking if it hadn't been for the swatch of red cloth peeking through the snow catching his eye. His breath hitched in his chest as hope washed over him. He fell to his knees, frantically brushing the snow away. Each swipe revealed another section of curly brown hair, hardened with ice crystals.

"Stephanie," he yelled. "Steph, can you hear me?" He brushed the snow off her face and neck. She lay limp—unresponsive. Her face so pale it blended with the snow. "Over here," he called out, getting Hector's attention as he was busy searching an area several yards away.

Hector ran over, crouching down beside her. "Angelita." He drew in a sharp breath as he placed his fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse. "Por favor, estar vivo," he pleaded under his breath. (Please, be alive.) He gave Lester a thin smile. "It's weak, but she's alive." He began smoothing the hair off her face, eyes widening when he felt how feverish her skin was. "She is burning up."

"We don't have time to wait for the paramedics to make their way to us." Lester told him as he placed his hands under her body to lift her. "We have to get her out of here, now." He was afraid to touch her for fear of hurting her, but he didn't have a choice. If he didn't act fast, she could die. As if she weighed nothing, he carefully scooped Stephanie into his arms. Her painful moan squeezed his heart. "I'm so sorry it hurts, but I have to move fast, there's no time! Stay with me, Beautiful."

"Les," Stephanie faintly whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to hold on for a few more minutes." He started running while trying not to jostle her battered body. Her moans became louder—more intense. There was no doubt he was hurting her, and he wished he could bear the pain for her. "Don't give up, Beautiful! Fight! You hear me?"

Hector dialed Ranger and took off running after Lester. "We found her. She's burning up with fever—barely alive."

"Where?" Ranger barked.

"A quarter mile north of the crash site. Meet us at the ambulance."

Ranger and Tank quickly did an about face and ran back the way they'd come. As they emerged through the trees, Lester came running from the other side of the road with Stephanie in his arms and Hector on his heels. "Babe." Ranger frantically ran his hands over her body, searching for injuries as he kept pace with Lester, but Lester didn't stop running until he placed her on the waiting stretcher.

The EMT's made fast work loading her into the back of the ambulance and starting an IV. Ranger hopped in with her, holding her hand, begging urgently. "Babe, you can wake up now. I've got you." He smoothed the frozen curls off her face. "You're safe now," he said as he gently kissed her frigid lips. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As the ambulance raced away, Tank placed a call to Lula. "Baby, we found her!"

"You found my girl?" She screamed in his ear, crying tears of joy. "Is she hurt bad?"

"She's on her way to Piney Grove hospital in Hammonton Township." He didn't have the heart to tell her that he wasn't sure Stephanie was going to make it.

"Me and Connie are on our way. We'll bring Mary Lou with us. Stephanie will want her friends by her side."

Tank disconnected and dialed Morelli. "We've got her."

Morelli's breath caught in his throat as he quickly stood up from his desk, sending papers to the floor in disarray. "Is she okay?"

Tank resisted the urge to sigh. He knew this conversation was going to be unpleasant. He really didn't like the cop. He got the impression he thought he was hot stuff. "EMT's said it doesn't look good. You might want to get her family here as soon as possible. She's en route to Piney Grove hospital in Hammonton Township."

"Hammonton Township? That's an hour away."

Tank didn't respond.

"How did you find her, and why wasn't I notified?"

"Her call came in on Rangeman's mainline. She was able to tell us she was in the Pine Barren's before she wrecked the truck she was driving. We followed the smoke from the explosion and found her passed out in the woods."

Morelli blew out a breath. "I'm on my way with her parents, tell her to hold on."

"Done," Tank said and disconnected.

As Morelli walked to the parking lot, he passed Eddie, and filled him in. He got in his SUV, heading over to the Plum's house, shaking with worry and anger. He didn't understand why she hadn't called him or the police for help? And he was pissed that Ranger and his henchmen hadn't notified him until after the fact. This was supposed to be a joint operation, but as usual, Ranger decided to play superhero.

* * *

Filling out paperwork was the last thing Ranger wanted to do, but Stephanie had trusted him as her medical power of attorney, and it was his responsibility to see that she received the best of care. The most important thing right now was making sure the doctors and nurses understand that he expected them to do everything possible to save her life. Since she was still covered under Rangeman's insurance policy, he knew she would be afforded the best possible care.

After he finished with the paperwork, he paced back and forth in front of the double doors, waiting for someone to come tell him if his world had just ended. There were so many things he wanted to say to Stephanie… so many things he wanted to show her. He unconsciously rubbed his fist over his heart. Knowing he might not get the chance made his chest hurt.

During the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital, the EMT's worked continuously trying to stabilize her. Ranger had held her hand the whole way, whispering how proud of her he was, and encouraging her to open her eyes—but she never did. Internally, he was rapidly spiraling out of control, but he was doing his best to contain his panic. Patience was only an illusion he'd cultivated over the years. In truth—his emotions were never more out of control than when Stephanie was involved.

The waiting room was eerily silent. He looked over at Lester, Hector, and Bones, leaning against the wall, worry etched on their faces as they stared at the double doors Stephanie had been rushed through.

He tried focusing his thoughts on retribution. His mind wandered back to the crash site. It was their only source of clues as to who had taken Stephanie and where she'd been held. He was thankful Tank, Vince, Woody, and Cal had stayed behind to collect whatever evidence they could before the feds descended and took over the scene. When he found out who hurt her, he was going to kill them—slowly and painfully.

The exterior doors swooshed open, drawing his attention. Morelli rushed in with Frank, Helen, and Stephanie's grandma running behind them. Morelli made a beeline straight for Ranger and Helen followed. She grabbed Ranger's shoulder, frantically shouting. "Where's my baby?"

Ranger resisted the urge to shrug her hand off and calmly stated. "The doctors are still working on her."

"What happened to her?" she asked. "Is she going to be okay?"

"We found her unconscious in the middle of the forest, burning up with fever." Ranger didn't want to admit out loud that there was a real chance Stephanie wouldn't make it. Instead he looked back at the double doors, wishing with every fiber of his being that she was strong enough to pull through this.

Lester and Hector registered Morelli's barely concealed anger, and walked over, flanking Ranger. They were afraid of what Ranger might do to him if Morelli was stupid enough to start something. Now wasn't the time to get into a territory war with Morelli, even if it had been brewing for years.

Morelli's cop face was in place, hiding his hatred for the man in front of him, but his voice betrayed his true feelings. Everyone in the room could hear the animosity flowing from him in waves. He looked Ranger up and down. "She called you?"

"She called the main office number." Ranger corrected. "My men initiated a trace and we followed it."

"I thought we had an understanding. You should have called me the second you heard from her." Morelli shook his head, barely keeping his anger in check. "I assume you recorded the call. I want to hear it."

The hospital doors opened again, allowing Eddie, Mary Lou, Connie, Lula, and agents Hobbs and Kinkade to enter. The feds approached while everyone else took a seat. Ranger nodded for Hector to play the recording.

"Someone was chasing her?" Helen shrieked and then abruptly fell silent as sounds of an explosion reverberated through the phone's speakers. They all waited, wide eyed, for more, but the line had gone dead.

"There was no sign of anyone else at the scene." Ranger directed his comment to Agent Kinkade but failed to mention that his men were collecting evidence and reviewing the scene as he spoke.

He shifted his focus back to the double doors and started pacing, again. It was a clear dismissal, telling them he was done answering questions. The room fell silent as everyone, but Ranger took seats. After what seemed like hours, the doors finally opened, stopping Ranger in his tracks.

His stomach clenched in fear as a middle-aged woman with short blonde hair, scanned the room. "Plum family."

He braced himself and approached, as did Steph's parents and Morelli. The doctor looked at Frank. "Are you Carlos Manoso?"

Ranger didn't breathe as he gauged the doctors body language, trying to determine the severity of her news. If she was going to tell him Stephanie was gone, he didn't want to hear it. He never wanted to hear those words. With more trepidation than he'd felt in years, he spoke up. "I'm Carlos Manoso."

The doctor held out her hand, ignoring everyone else. "I'm Dr. Powell, the cardiologist in charge of Ms. Plum's care."

"How is my daughter, is she going to be okay?" Helen interrupted.

Dr. Powell kept her focus on Ranger, her face somber, eyes full of sympathy. "May I speak with you in private?"


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

**To Close to Call**

"We're Stephanie's parents." Helen's voice was shrill with worry as she desperately motioned between herself and Frank. "Why do you need to talk to him?"

The doctors' face was unreadable as she looked at Helen. "Legally, I'm only allowed to speak with Ms. Plum's health care power of attorney."

This put Ranger in an awkward position. He didn't want to start a war with Steph's parents. They had a right to know her condition. "You can speak freely." He informed the doctor.

Dr. Powell nodded, measuring her words carefully. "At the moment, Ms. Plum is in serious but stable condition."

"Will she be okay?" Helen sniffed, fighting back tears.

"I can't answer that at this time." Dr. Powell shook her head regretfully. "But I can tell you she is being treated for pneumonia in both lungs as well as a large pericardial effusion."

Frank leaned closer to the doctor as he put his arm around his wife. "What exactly is a pericardial effusion?"

"When an infection develops in the lining of the heart, fluid builds up, causing pressure that can lower or block blood intake. Essentially, your daughter's heart isn't getting the blood it needs."

Hearing those words made Ranger's own heart skip a beat. "Are you saying she might have suffered heart damage?"

Dr. Powell made direct eye contact with him and spoke softly but firmly. "Again, I can't answer that at this time. We're treating her with heavy-duty broad-spectrum antibiotics coupled with corticosteroids. Let's give the medication time to do its job and we'll reevaluate in a few hours." She gave him a thin smile.

Helen gasped and started crying in earnest, speaking in between sobs. "But what if that doesn't fix it? Will you need to operate?"

"Let's cross one bridge at a time." Dr. Powell smiled and turned back to Ranger. "While we were working to stabilize her, she woke up and became agitated. After the trauma she's suffered, that's to be expected, but her successful recovery rests on her ability to remain calm. So, for the time being, I've sedated her. Because you gave consent for us to take every measure to save her life, I've inserted an NG-tube." At their confused faces, she explained before they had a chance to ask. "It's a feeding tube that will allow her to recover essential nutrients." She cleared her throat. "I've consulted with Ms. Plum's primary physician and according to her last physical; she's lost twenty-five pounds. Wherever she's been, she wasn't given proper nourishment. As a result, she's suffering from severe malnourishment and dehydration. Considering that she didn't have any weight to spare, this is an immediate concern."

"Do whatever you need to do to keep her alive." Ranger looked directly into Dr. Powell's eyes to make sure he got his meaning across. "Do you understand me?" She gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "I'd like to see her," he stated.

"She's being settled in a private unit in the CCU. You can see her very soon."

A tall, lanky kid in a white lab coat cautiously approached and after Dr. Powell noticed everyone's attention directed behind her, she turned around. As soon as the kid caught sight of Ranger, his eyes widened, and he stumbled over his long narrow feet. As if remembering he was an actual doctor, he corrected himself and straightened to his full height. Dr. Powell smiled at him and then turned back to Ranger. "This is Dr. Harris. He's the neurologist consulting on Ms. Plum's case."

Dr. Harris looked at the group of muscular men, giving each of them a weak smile and then seemed to realize everyone was waiting for him to speak. "Yes, um." He swallowed heavily and then cleared his throat. "The patient has sustained several blunt force traumas to her head. At least two of them were with enough force to cause prolonged swelling in both her temporal and frontal lobes."

"Are you saying our daughter might have brain damage **and** heart damage?" Helen asked incredulously.

Dr. Harris' eyes darted from Helen to Ranger and back again. He straightened his spine and softened his gaze before speaking. "We have no way of knowing the extent of the damage, if any, until she wakes up. Her side effects could be as minor as headaches, dizziness, and confusion, or the damage could be more severe, including disorientation, memory loss, and loss of cognitive functions."

Helen gasped. "She might not remember us?"

"I'd rather not speculate, but that is a possibility." He gave Ranger a furtive glance, noticing his arms crossed over his chest in an intimidating stance, and gulped. "Right now, the only thing we can do is ensure that she avoids becoming agitated and gets plenty of rest." He tipped his head in parting and quickly retreated.

Dr. Powell focused back on Stephanie's loved ones, but before she could continue, Joe asked, "Is he even old enough to be a doctor?"

Dr. Powell pursed her lips and took a deep breath, clearly not thrilled with having her colleague's credentials questioned. "I can assure you Dr. Harris is qualified," she told Morelli. "In fact, he's a bit of a celebrity around here. Many refer to him as a prodigy in his field and we're quite fortunate to have him practicing at this hospital and on Ms. Plum's case in particular." Dismissing Morelli, she focused back on Ranger and the Plum's. "I guess you folks could use some good news." Everyone took a cleansing breath, encouraged by the prospect of something positive. "Given the extent of dehydration, her kidneys are showing no sign of damage. There are, however, some complicated breaks in her left hand along with three fractured ribs. The ribs will heal on their own in a few weeks, but she will require surgery on her hand as soon as the effusion has stabilized."

Helen sniffed again. "But she's going to be okay, right?"

"I can't give you any guarantees, Mrs. Plum." Dr. Powell gave her a reassuring pat on her shoulder. "She's not out of the woods yet, but her chances are good. However, emotionally—it might be a long road for her. She may need to talk to someone. I can give you a referral when she's ready."

"Thank you, doctor," Frank shook her hand.

"As soon as she's settled, I'll allow two visitors at a time to go back. You'll be able to visit longer in the morning."

Helen panicked. "I need to stay with her. She can't be left alone, not after what she's been through."

Dr. Powell paused to consider Helen's plea and then nodded. "I think you may be right. I'll make an exception in this case." Her gaze once again settled on Ranger. "Were you the one to bring her in?"

"Yes."

The doctor lowered her voice. "There are some other things we should discuss." She glanced over at the feds, taking notice of their visible badges. "I'm assuming you'd like to be present during this discussion?"

"Yes, doctor," Agent Kinkade said.

"There's a private room this way." Dr. Powell started walking and Agent Kinkade, Agent Hobbs, Morelli, and Ranger followed her to a conference room off the nurse's station where a middle-aged man in a white lab coat was already seated at a long mahogany table drinking a cup of coffee. He stood as Dr. Powell entered.

"Mr. Manoso, this is Dr. Webb, the emergency physician who treated Ms. Plum." As Ranger and Dr. Webb shook hands, Morelli stepped forward, offering his hand as well. Dr. Powell raised her eyebrow curiously. "I don't believe I caught your name."

"Detective Morelli, Trenton Police Department," he said as he grasped Dr. Powell's hand firmly and then Dr. Webb's. "Thank you both for taking care of my girlfriend." Dr. Powell's eyes darted back and forth between Ranger and Joe, trying to interpret the relationship between the two men and her patient. Given that Ranger held Stephanie's power of attorney; she had assumed they were a couple. Morelli did his best to hide his annoyance but having to defend his place in Stephanie's life to these strangers pissed him off. He smiled to cover his resentment. "Stephanie is a very special woman."

After all the introductions were complete, both doctors took their seats around the table with Dr Webb at the head, Ranger, Morelli and Dr Powell on his left and the two agents on his right. Dr. Webb opened his laptop and began to speak. "Ms. Plum has… "

Agent Hobbs leaned forward, his voice rising to an annoying level as he looked between the two doctors. "Were either of you able to recover any evidence supporting the '**theory**' that Stephanie Plum was kidnapped?"

Inwardly, Ranger tensed._ What the hell was this guy's problem? _The hostility displayed toward Stephanie was mind boggling. He'd done nothing but malign her character, casting doubt on the severity of her situation at every turn.

"You have doubts she was kidnapped?" Dr. Webb gave Agent Hobbs an incredulous look. "I've been a doctor for twenty-three years and I can assure you, I've never seen anything like what's happened to that young woman." He dismissed Hobbs and turned to Ranger. "I'm going to be blunt. If you hadn't gotten her here when you did, she wouldn't be in CCU right now—she'd be in the morgue." He let that sink in, and then he pushed a form across the table toward Ranger. "Do I have your permission, as Ms. Plum's power of attorney, to speak freely with those in this room?" As part of hospital policy involving victims of violent crimes, he'd followed evidentiary procedure as his team documented each of Stephanie's injuries. While Ranger read and signed the form, Morelli glared at him with unconcealed hatred. Dr. Webb took the signed paper and opened his laptop, clicking on the first picture. The TV screen on the wall came alive with a close-up image of lash marks crisscrossing Stephanie's back. "As you can see from this picture, she was severely beaten."

Ranger's mouth went dry, and his hands started shaking under the table. He might have been falling apart on the inside, but his face was showing no emotion whatsoever.

But Joe, on the other hand, was much more verbal. "Fuck," he cursed and pushed back from the table. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, breathing heavily. He couldn't get himself under control. The acid in his stomach was burning a hole through his insides. He leaned back, so he could fit his hand into his jeans pocket and pull out a roll of Tums, popping half the roll into his mouth.

Dr. Webb sat silently, giving everyone a moment before he continued. "This picture is only a small representation of her injuries. The lash marks extend down onto her buttocks and legs. Some of her injuries are older than others, indicating the abuse took place over several weeks."

The next picture was of Stephanie's bruised and swollen eyes, and another was of the bruises on her stomach and ribs. "I think these pictures speak for themselves," he said as he continued to flip through. "She suffered multiple cuts and contusions covering most of her body." He clicked again, displaying close-up images of her wrists, ankles, and neck—revealing ligature marks that had become raw and infected.

Joe's skin took on a green hue as he looked at each picture, wincing as if he could feel Stephanie's pain. "She was tied up and whipped?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, breaking at the end.

"She was restrained—but not with rope." Dr. Webb clarified. "If I had to guess, I'd say it was some type of metal cuff. This would explain why the broken bones in her hand look self-inflicted."

"You're saying she broke her own hand?" Ranger's voice was flat—controlled.

"Only she can confirm that, but I can tell you with certainty that this type of break wasn't from a fall. It would have taken repeated blows to the same area to accomplish that kind of damage. Considering she got away from her abductor, I believe she broke her own hand to free herself from the restraint."

As Dr. Webb continued flipping through the pictures of her injuries, Ranger and Joe broke a little more inside. Both were struggling with feelings of guilt for what Stephanie had been subjected to. While they were out of town releasing their sexual tensions in other women's arms—too caught up in their own desires to notice she wasn't around—Stephanie had been enduring unspeakable torture. The visible proof of her suffering was unbearable to see and only served to strengthen their guilt.

When Dr. Webb closed his laptop, Morelli swallowed the knot building in his throat and asked what they'd all been dreading. "Was she… was she… raped?"

Dr. Webb pressed his lips together. "The rape kit and internal exam were inconclusive."

Morelli jumped to his feet, causing his chair to tip over, hitting the floor with a thud as he moved around the room, muttering to himself. His face had lost all color, and he looked as if he was going to be sick.

Ranger's head fell forward, chin almost resting on his chest, taking deep breaths. Just thinking about Stephanie being assaulted sent him into a blind rage. He wanted to find the fucker and break his bones with his bare hands and then set him on fire and watch him burn. He should have protected her—should have seen someone following her. He was a highly trained member of an elite military unit and he owned his own fucking security company, but he still hadn't been able to keep the woman he loved safe. He raised his head, staring at the doctor, eyes flat and cold. "DNA?" he asked.

Dr. Webb turned to Ranger and swallowed, sensing barely harnessed danger. "There was no seminal fluid present, but we were able to scrape skin cells from under her broken fingernails. And if the blood on her clothing is from her abductor the police should be able to get a DNA profile."

He turned to Agent Kinkade. "My nurse will provide you with all the evidence we collected." He spoke into his phone and a minute later, a middle-aged woman with a motherly countenance entered, carrying a white evidence box sealed with tape. "Thank you, Cathy," Dr. Webb said as she sat the box on the table and moved to wait by the door.

While everyone else's faces reflected somber expressions, Agent Hobbs seemed unaffected by the extent of Stephanie's injuries. "I'll need a copy of those pictures." He spoke as if he was in charge. "And I'll need to talk to her ASAP."

"Ms. Plum is now under Dr. Powell's care." He got up from the table, offering his hand to Ranger, Joe, and Agent Kinkade. "Ms. Plum is in the best of hands. My thoughts will be with her as she recovers." With those parting words, he exited the room.

Agent Hobbs ignored the slight and turned to Dr. Powell, giving her a brilliant smile, expecting her full cooperation.

"My patients' recovery takes priority. Any questions you have will need to wait." She preempted him. "As for the pictures, they will be entered into her official medical record which I will make available after you submit the proper documentation."

Agent Hobbs geared up to say something else, but Agent Kinkade spoke first. "We understand doctor."

"Ms. Plum has been through quite an ordeal," she said as she looked at everyone in the room. "I want to make myself perfectly clear. I will not tolerate my patient becoming upset. Since she won't be waking for a couple days, you two can go home." She looked at the agents. "Leave your card with my nurse." She checked her watch then motioned to Cathy standing at the door. "I'll have her notify you when Ms. Plum is able to answer questions. You'll have to excuse me." She turned to Cathy. "Can you show everyone back to the waiting area?"

"Yes, doctor." She held her arm out, silently commanding they follow.

Ranger caught up with the doctor before she turned the corner. "The person who did this to Stephanie is still out there. My security company, Rangeman, will be posting two guards outside her door."

"Cathy will show you where to station your men." Dr. Powell gave Ranger a nod and continued walking down the corridor.

Ranger waited while Cathy led everyone else back to the waiting room. Just as the door was about to close, Morelli sent Ranger an icy stare, letting him know he wasn't happy about being kicked back to the waiting room while Ranger undoubtedly got to see Stephanie before anyone else.

Cathy made her way back to Ranger. "Follow me." She smiled and turned down another hallway leading to the CCU unit. They came to a stop outside a small glass walled room where two nurses were getting Stephanie settled.

As soon as they vacated the room, he stepped inside and reached for her hand, taking in every inch of her beauty. He didn't see the bruises on her face or the swelling around her eyes; he only saw _love_. "Babe." He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. Her cheek. Her mouth. "Mi amor (My love)," he whispered as a small tear made its way down his cheek. "Quiero abrazarte pero incluso tengo miedo de tocarte. Tienes que mejorar Pensé que moriría sin ti. Nunca me dejes de nuevo, bebé." (I want to hug you but I'm afraid to even touch you. You have to get better. I thought I would die without you. Never leave me again, Babe.)

"Frank," Helen softly murmured from the doorway and rushed to the opposite side of the bed while Frank came to stand beside Ranger. He put his hand on Ranger's shoulder, clearly seeing how distraught he was.

"She's black and blue all over," Helen wailed as she gently ran her fingers over Stephanie's marred skin. "Look what that monster did to our little girl, Frank." She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"I see it, Helen." Franks nostril's flared as he clipped his words.

As much as Ranger hated leaving, he knew her parents needed some time alone with her. Reluctantly, he let go of Stephanie's hand and stepped into the hall, watching her parents hover over her.

"And she's so skinny. She's always been skinny, but this is… ," Helen's voice trailed off as her emotions overwhelmed her.

Usually a passive man, Frank was fighting his urge to kick the bastard's ass that hurt his baby girl, but he didn't know who to take his anger out on. The only thing he could do was hold his wife's hand in one of his and lightly grasp his daughter's frail fingers with the other, infusing them with some of his strength.

They visited for a few more minutes before heading out to let some of the others come back and see her. As they passed Ranger outside Stephanie's door, Frank locked eyes with him, wondering what was going on between him and Stephanie.

The next time the double doors opened, Morelli and Grandma Mazur walked through. Neither spoke to Ranger as they entered Stephanie's room.

Joe choked back a sob as he got his first look at her. The pictures had been bad, but this… this was so much worse. He swallowed hard as a dull roar filled his ears. He was seconds away from putting is hand through the glass wall. He straightened and turned away to gather himself. He'd seen the aftermath of assault plenty of times—too many to count—but this was different. This was Stephanie, and he didn't know how to handle it.

After he managed to get himself under control, he turned back to her, and tried to view her from a professional point of view—he had to if he was going to find whoever did this to her—but it was impossible. She wasn't just anybody. She was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. How was he going to catch this fucking bastard if he couldn't do his job?

He reached out, hesitantly, needing to touch her, but afraid he'd hurt her. He found a small place on her forehead that wasn't wounded and stroked it gently. "Cupcake… you keep fighting to get better." His throat tightened causing his voice to choke. He paused until he could speak again. "Bob sends his love." He swallowed the lump forming. "And so do I."

Grandma Mazur rubbed Stephanie's toes through the blanket while giving Joe a moment with Steph. When he finished, he stepped away, turning his back to the bed, breathing heavily.

Grandma walked closer, running her fingers gently over the bruises on Stephanie's cheek. "We come from hardy stock my girl. We might get knocked down, but we don't stay down. It's our Hungarian genes." Her voice got stronger. "So, don't be lazing away in this bed any longer than you have too. There'll be plenty of time for that when you're old like your mother."

Joe had been trying to give Grandma a moment of privacy, but he couldn't help his huff of laughter at the old lady's approach to life and knew Stephanie would appreciate it. He turned around in time to see her kiss her granddaughter on the cheek and wipe away her own tears with trembling hands. They visited for a few more minutes and Grandma Mazur returned to the waiting area, but Morelli paused in the hallway. He had some things to say to Ranger.

Ranger stood with his arms crossed over his chest and didn't blink as Morelli moved in close. "I don't know how you convinced her to make you her power of attorney, but if you do anything I don't agree with, I'll wipe the floor with you." Morelli arched his eyebrow and his nostril's flared. "That little tangle we got into in Hawaii will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you." He sniffed as he stepped back, eyes locked on Ranger, and then walked away.

Ranger had allowed Joe to say his piece without escalating the situation, but on the inside, he was seething with anger. Morelli considered himself a bad ass, but Ranger had used only a small portion of his skills on the man in Hawaii. He'd been holding back so he wouldn't end the asshole. Stephanie wouldn't have been happy if that had happened, and truthfully, Ranger knew he deserved a beat down for vacationing with another man's woman. But this wasn't the time or the place to have a pissing contest.

As soon as the doors closed behind Morelli, they opened again. This time Eddie and Mary Lou came back.

When they left, Tank, Lula, and Connie took their turn.

"I'm not sure I like this new weight loss program you're on, hon," Connie's voice caught as she whispered. "I think maybe it worked a little too well. But don't worry. When we get you back to work, I'll have dozens of donuts waiting for you."

"We'll have the ones with sprinkles and them Boston crème ones you like," Lula chimed in and then reached out to fluff Steph's pillow. She quickly pulled her hand back at the last second and looked over at Connie as tears ran down their cheeks. "I'm afraid to touch her," she sobbed and buried her head in Tank's chest. Then she pulled back, her voice taking on a hard edge. "You going to make whoever did this, pay?"

"There's no doubt about that, baby." Tank growled. "The real question is which one of the Rangemen will get to him first."

Connie and Lula nodded their head in satisfaction.

Ranger watched Hector and Lester come through the doors. They were two of the fiercest men he knew and they both looked stricken. Each took up a stance on opposite sides of Stephanie, gently touching her hands. The only tears Ranger had ever seen on Hector's face were tattooed on, but today there were real tears. "Angelita, I am so sorry I did not listen to you. If I had, you would not have been hurt." His voice broke. "I failed you."

"You didn't fail anyone," Lester interrupted, his voice edged with hardness. "And she wouldn't want you blaming yourself for something someone else did, man." Hector looked up, ready to argue, but also hoping Lester was right. "It's true," Lester said. "She'll tell you the same thing when she wakes up—right, Beautiful?" He looked back down at Stephanie. "You have to fight hard to come back to us. We still have two seasons of _The Game of Throne's_ to watch."

Through the glass walls, Ranger watched his men interacting with his woman.

_His woman? Was she? _

It was how he thought of her, but he'd never told her.

_Would he get the chance? _

Hector and Lester left the room, taking up their post as first watch outside her door. Neither one of them were willing to leave the hospital until Stephanie was out of the woods.

Ranger went back inside, taking his place beside her bed. It gutted him to see her once vibrant body looking skeletal and broken. "Babe." He leaned in, his breath gently caressing her lips as he whispered. "I don't know how it happened, but I can't live without you." He held her hand to his lips, gently kissing each finger. "I want you to fight to get better. The hard part is over—you got away. I'm so proud of you, Babe." He straightened when Helen and Frank entered. "A room has been reserved for you at the hotel across the street—for as long as you need," he told Frank. "Just give them your name at the front desk."

"You didn't have to do that, son, but thank you." Frank held his hand out. "Thank you for everything you've done to find our daughter." They shook hands knowing this could have very easily turned out differently. Frank turned to his wife. "I think I'm going to head over to the hotel Mr. Manoso arranged for us." He gave Stephanie a kiss and then his wife. "Call me if anything changes."

After he left, Ranger pulled up a chair on one side of Stephanie's bed while Helen did the same on the other. He would have preferred to be alone with Stephanie, but he knew her mother wasn't going to budge, at least not tonight, and he was grateful she wasn't challenging his decision to stay. The thought of being away from Stephanie was unbearable.

He settled into the chair and reached for Stephanie's hand, stroking his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. It wasn't long before Helen's head dropped back against the chair, and soon she fell asleep. He couldn't help thinking she should have gone to the hotel with her husband.

He'd been sitting in this chair for hours, listening to the reassuring beat of her heart, and watching her chest rise and fall. Sometimes her breathing faltered, causing her chest to remain motionless for longer than he was comfortable with. It scared the hell out of him when it did that. Mostly, the incessant beeping of the monitors was a comfort. They confirmed she was still alive. But every time the high-pitched warning beeps went off, his own heart rate spiked, and he gripped the bedrail until his knuckles turned white.

The nurse had explained that the fluid around her heart was causing it to beat faster than normal, and there was nothing to be worried about unless the red warning light started flashing, sounding a piercing alarm. He hoped that never happened.

Several times during the night, Stephanie became agitated, flailing her arms and legs, wildly. Each time, Ranger whispered soothing words to her, and she would calm, but this time was different. It was as if she was fighting for her life. Her head was twisting back and forth on the pillow, sending her curls flying in all directions and the monitor was sounding its high-pitched warning beeps. Helen jerked awake. She was on her feet in seconds, standing opposite Ranger, helplessly watching the numbers on Stephanie's heart rate monitor rise higher and higher.

Stephanie's arms were flailing so badly, Ranger was afraid she'd pull out her IV or hurt herself. He applied gentle pressure to her arms, holding them in place, careful not to make her think she was still imprisoned.

"Stephanie, you have to calm down," Helen begged, but her words had no affect and neither did Ranger's. In fact, the tighter Ranger held her, the more forcefully her body bucked. "No one's going to hurt you, baby," she soothed, but Stephanie still didn't stop struggling. Helen looked over at Ranger with panic-stricken eyes. "Why isn't the nurse in here?" She reached for the call button and yelled into the speaker. "We need help in here."

Ranger looked up when Hector and Lester opened the door. "Hold her legs," he yelled to them as they each grabbed one of Stephanie's flailing legs and held on.

Cathy, the same nurse from earlier came running in. She immediately went to the monitor, checking Stephanie's numbers. She didn't say anything as she took her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Stephanie's heart and flicked her light in her eyes.

"What's happening?" Ranger demanded. "Is she having a seizure?"


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

As I Live and Breathe

The women had me surrounded as they hovered in the air, whispering ominously and reaching out to me with their bony fingers. I turned in a circle, panting for breath and looking for a way out. Every time they moved, a pungent stench wafted off their rotting bodies, filling my nostrils with a sickening smell. My stomach rolled and I put my hand over my nose and mouth, trying to keep from breathing it in. I turned from side to side, looking for an opening between them, but they kept swarming closer, trapping me as their lip-less mouths roared in maniacal laughter. I slapped and kicked them away.

_"__Stop it! Leave me alone!"_

I felt something cold and slimy on my arm and looked down, gagging when I noticed the bits of festering flesh stuck to my skin. I desperately wiped the oozing sludge off. "_Get away from me!" _I screamed.

"Stephanie, can you hear me?"

In unison, the women turned their heads to see who dared interrupt them. Their circle opened as they parted, and I could see who called my name.

_"__Mom?" _

She was holding a lifeless rabbit by its hind legs; her unblinking eyes boring into me with cold indifference as she gave it a vicious shake. _"You see this, Stephanie? I killed the rabbit for you. I'm a murderer too." _

Suddenly, the rabbit came to life and started wiggling to get free. It was too much for her to handle and she let go. The rabbit twisted in midair, turning into Durant before landing on his feet, snarling and posed for attack. "_Run!" _I yelled at her, but she stood unmoving as if she didn't hear the urgency in my voice. She was focused solely on me, her face red with rage. I don't think she was even aware that Durant was crouched beside her.

_"__It's your fault I had to run over that man."_ Her accusation hit me like a harsh blow. All this time, she'd blamed me for the hit and run accident during the Abruzzi situation. If I hadn't gotten tangled up with that psychotic freak, she never would have had to run Leo Klug down with her car to save me.

_"__I'm sorry Mom," _I cried as I stumbled backward right into one of the women's disgusting embrace. Her arms tightened around me—trapping me—while the rest of them moved toward Mom, forcing her to back up. _"Run," _I screamed but she didn't understand the danger she was in. They were forcing her backward, one step at a time, until she backed right into the glass case Durant was holding open. _"No!" _I screamed as I pried the arms from around me and started pushing my way through the women. _"Get away from her!"_

As I shoved through them, slinging them to the side, their bodies broke apart. Piles of bones and gore landed piece by piece on the floor. By the time I cleared a path, Durant was closing the door on the case with my mother inside. With the last of her breath, she screamed, _"This is all your fault, Stephanie. You're a murderer now, too." _I drew back as if she'd physically smacked me. I wasn't a murderer. How could she say that about me?

While I absorbed the shock of her words, Durant fell to the floor. I'd been prepared to fight him again, but he was already lying beaten and bloody with chains at his wrists and ankles and neck. I hadn't wanted to hurt him, but he'd left me no choice. He deserved it. He'd done far worse to me. 

Everything went dark.

_"__Mom!"_ I fruitlessly searched the darkness, calling to her. Something grabbed me and I screamed. The more I struggled to get away, the tighter they squeezed. "_Mom!"_ I screamed louder, panic setting in.

"Shhh… I'm here, baby." The arms loosened and my mother's soft hand smoothed my hair off my forehead.

I took in a swift breath, elated that she was still alive. _"Mommy?"_

"Babe. You can stop fighting now."

_"__Ranger?"_ His voice brought tears to my eyes. I searched harder, but I couldn't see him in the darkness. _"Where are you?" _

"You're safe, Babe. Everything's going to be fine, now." A finger gently wiped my tears away, and then the sweetest lips kissed by cheek and then my mouth.

"You're in the hospital, Ms. Plum." A strange but pleasant voice spoke. "I'm going to give you something to help you rest."

* * *

"She's not having a seizure," Nurse Cathy said as she injected something into Stephanie's IV port. "Most likely she's experiencing a terrible nightmare. After what she's been through, it would be understandable."

"What are you giving her?" Helen asked.

"It's a higher dose sedative," she said as she began strapping Stephanie's arms and legs down with restraints.

Ranger put his hand on the woman's arm, stopping her. "She's calm, now," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. "She doesn't need those." Helen vigorously nodded her head, agreeing with Ranger.

Already informed that Ranger was Stephanie's power of attorney, Nurse Cathy directed her explanation to him. "Ms. Plum is very sick. It's for her protection." While she continued placing Stephanie's limbs in the four-point restraints, she explained. "Erratic movements can cause her broken ribs to puncture a lung or worse. After the ordeal she's suffered, it would be natural for her to fight. Even while sleeping, the mind is active, and instinct can take over." Even though he didn't like it, Ranger knew from his own experiences that she was right. He'd go along with it for now, but as soon as Stephanie woke up, the straps would be coming off. The nurse finished taking Steph's vitals, and left.

Ranger looked over at Helen. "Why don't you go to the hotel and get some rest."

Helen sat down for a few minutes, noticing the swelling in her legs. It happened anytime she was on her feet for long periods of time. If she didn't find a place to lie down soon, they'd get worse. She looked back over at Stephanie. "Are you going to stay with her?"

"I'm not leaving." Ranger stood at Stephanie's bedside, holding her uninjured hand.

Helen gathered her purse and coat and headed to the door. "I'll be back in a few hours." She stopped in the doorway. "Thank you for reserving the hotel room. It was very thoughtful. I hope Stephanie knows how much you love her."

Morelli had been sitting in the waiting room for hours when he saw Helen leaving. The doctor had allowed two visitors to stay with Stephanie, and of course one of them was Helen, but since Ranger had Stephanie's power of attorney he also remained. Now that Helen was leaving, he had a chance to spend some time with Stephanie, whether Ranger liked it or not, and he was going to take it. He approached the nurse's desk, flashing his badge. Luckily, the young nurse was impressed enough to let him through the door. He kept his eyes straight ahead and walked with purpose. He learned a long time ago if you acted like you had a right to be somewhere, people rarely questioned you.

Hector and Lester were guarding Stephanie's door. Morelli was surprised when they made no move to stop him from entering, but once inside, he stopped short at the sight in front of him. Ranger was lying half on the bed, caressing Stephanie's jaw with the back of his fingers. For a brief moment, he glimpsed soul splitting anguish on Ranger's face. He'd never seen this side of the man before. In some parts of his brain he knew Ranger loved her, but now he didn't have to wonder how deep that love went—he saw it—live and in living color. The anger he'd banked earlier was back in full force.

Ranger may not have given the impression he was aware of Morelli's presence, but he knew the instant he'd entered the room. He chose to remain where he was and made no attempt to get up or withdraw his hand away from Stephanie. In the past, he'd have stepped away and not interfered in their unhealthy relationship. But not this time.

* * *

My heart was racing, and everything was dark. I tried blinking my eyes open, but the darkness wouldn't go away.

_Where was I?_

I was lying on a mattress, but it felt different. It was softer and my head was cushioned on a pillow. And I was warm. I tried to feel around, but my arm wouldn't move. I tried the other one and it was stuck too. So were my legs.

_No. No. No._ I cried as I began struggling. I'd gotten out of the shackles. I'd hit Durant and taken his clothes. I'd gotten free. Tears trickled from behind my closed eyes. I'd escaped. I know I had. It hadn't been just a dream.

My breath caught when a hand touched my shoulder. I searched through the darkness, desperate to see where Durant was. He must be furious after I hit him so many times. I tried to twist away, but my body wouldn't move. I was at his mercy. He grabbed my shoulders with both hands, and I fought harder, but still couldn't move enough to get his hands off me. I wasn't going to let him do this to me, not again. Finally, a painful noise came from deep in my throat. "Noooooo!"

"Babe, you're safe." A soothing voice broke through my panic.

_Ranger?_ As soon as I heard his voice, I calmed.

I felt tugging on my hands and legs as he tried to explain what was going on, but the beeps and alarms were making my head hurt. "They put you in restraints to keep you from hurting yourself. I'm taking them off right now. Don't be afraid. I won't let anyone hurt you."

_We need to hurry!_ I tried to scream as I did my best to help him, but my legs were so heavy they could have been made of lead.

"You shouldn't take those off." I stilled when I heard Joe's angry voice.

_Why didn't he want to help me? Was he going to leave me here—again? _

I struggled to help Ranger, but I could barely move.

"Shhh… Babe, you're free now."

I sighed with relief when I didn't feel the shackles anymore, but I still couldn't open my eyes. I heard people talking, but most of their words didn't make sense. Someone squeezed my hand and a drop of liquid landed on my cheek. "It's my fault." Joe quietly blamed himself. "I never should have taken the assignment and left her alone."

He sounded so sad. I wanted to put my arms around him and tell him it was all going to be okay, but we didn't have time for that. We had to get out before Durant found them here. I tried again to move… and couldn't.

_You need to help me, Joe. I can't get up. _

He didn't respond. It was as if he couldn't hear me.

"I allowed you to track her every move because she needed more than me to watch her back." The harsh tone in Joe's voice scared me. "So, tell me… where were you when she needed you?"

He had to be talking to Ranger because no one else tracked me. But Ranger didn't allow anyone to speak to him disrespectfully. I waited for a blow up—but none came.

_Did Ranger leave? _

I tried to open my mouth and tell Joe it wasn't anyone's fault, but something tugged on my hand, and I felt a cold sensation traveling up my arm—chilling me. After that, I slept peacefully.

* * *

An early morning shoot-out on Stark Street had left two bodies in the morgue, and Morelli had been called in to work the case. For a short time after that, it was just Ranger and Stephanie in the room. While she slept, he talked to her, gently whispering things he wouldn't normally voice, and begging her to fight to get better. Through the glass wall, he saw Bones and Cal arriving to relieve Lester and Hector. Bones handed an insulated bag to Lester and a minute later, the door slid open, allowing Hector and Lester inside.

Lester handed Ranger the bag. "Ella sent you breakfast. And Bones dropped off a bag of clothes for you at the hotel." Lester looked him up and down, noting the dark circles under his eyes, and his unshaven face. "You look like hell. Why don't you go to the hotel and shower? We'll stay with her until you get back." Ranger knew he looked like hell, he felt like it too, but he wasn't leaving this room until Stephanie was out of the woods. "And it wouldn't hurt for you to get some sleep," Lester added.

Ranger rolled his neck from side to side, loosening the kinks, and opened the bag to see what Ella had sent for him to eat. He didn't have much of an appetite, but he forced down the oatmeal with mixed berries, plain organic yogurt, and banana smoothie. He didn't taste any of it, but he needed the fuel. He wouldn't be any good to Stephanie if he didn't take care of himself.

As he ate, he listened to Hector and Lester talk to Stephanie, encouraging her to get better, and then they each kissed her check before taking off back to Trenton to track down her kidnapper. All hands were on deck until he was apprehended.

As soon as they left, Frank and Helen walked in, and took up residence beside the bed. Helen arranged Stephanie's blanket and fluffed her pillows. Then she applied lip balm to her dry, cracked lips, and ran a warm wet cloth over her face. When she was done, she looked thoughtfully over at Ranger. "Do you know where Joseph is?"

"Morelli's back in Trenton."

Helen's lips puckered as if she'd swallowed something sour, but before she had time to ask a follow up question, the door opened, and Dr. Powell strode in for 7:00 a.m. rounds.

Ranger made eye contact with Bones through the glass wall, signaling him to join them. He'd served as a medic in the Army with Ranger and been on plenty of missions where his quick actions and knowledge had saved their lives. He would be able to explain the medical jargon and offer advice.

Dr. Powell placed her stethoscope over Steph's chest, listening intently to her heart. Ranger's whole body tensed as he waited to hear if the fluid around her heart had worsened. The doctor's face didn't reveal anything as she studied Stephanie's vitals and reviewed the latest ECG results. When she was finished with her assessment, she took a deep breath and said, "Her CBC hasn't improved and the effusion has gotten larger, making me question if we are administering the most effective antibiotic to treat this particular infection. I'm also concerned the constant pressure could lead to cardiac tamponade."

Helen's face paled. "Is that serious?"

"Yes, but it can also be avoided. We'll need to drain the fluid as soon as possible."

"Drain?" Helen asked.

"I'll insert a large gauge needle through her chest wall and into the pericardial effusion. From there, I'll thread a catheter through the needle to drain the fluid. The lab will test it to see which antibiotic will be most effective."

Ranger had asked Bones to do a thorough check on Dr. Powell. He found her to be highly respected. He'd also researched the hospital's performance and found the cardiology department ranked the highest in the area. But before Ranger could decide, he needed more information. "How dangerous is this procedure?"

"As with any procedure, there are complications, but doing nothing is not an option." Ranger listened as Dr. Powell outlined the dangers of the procedure and signed the consent form.

Two hours later, Dr. Powell came out of the cath lab, approaching Ranger as he leaned against the wall in the hallway next to Bones. "We were able to drain a liter of fluid with no complications. The catheter will stay in place until we're certain no more fluid builds up. If she remains in stable condition, she can have the surgery to repair the bones in her hand late this afternoon." Ranger took a cleansing breath as the doctor went back into the cath lab.

"This is good news." Bones smiled as two orderlies rolled Stephanie's bed out into the hall, heading back to her room in the CCU. Ranger and Bones walked beside her bed while Ranger held her undamaged hand, glad that everything went well, but he wouldn't rest easy until she woke up.

While her parents stayed with her, Ranger took the opportunity to go to the hotel for a quick shower. He wanted to be back in time for the surgery on her hand this afternoon.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Helen sat in the waiting area, quietly knitting to pass the time while Steph underwent surgery to repair the broken bones in her hand. She glanced at her watch. Stephanie had been back there for two hours already and she was worried something might have gone wrong. What if her heart stopped? She could die! Helen dropped a stitch and blew out a frustrated breath before tucking her yarn back into her bag. There was no point in continuing when her mind wasn't on the task.

She leaned back, taking a moment to observe her daughter's friends seated on the other side of the room. The one she called Hector looked like he belonged in a gang and yet he was typing away on his computer. He was scary-looking, and she was always careful to give him a wide birth. The other one, Lester, was flipping through piles of papers and making calls. He was a big man, but he had a happy demeanor—definitely someone Stephanie would gravitate toward.

And then there was Ranger and Joseph. As soon as one would sit, the other would get up and pace. It was as if they couldn't bear to be doing the same thing at the same moment. From across the room, she could feel the impatience coming from Joseph. She wasn't surprised when he jumped to his feet and walked over to the pretty young nurse sitting behind the glass window.

Joe turned on his patented Morelli charm. "I'm Detective Morelli. Can you tell me how much longer Stephanie Plum's surgery is going to be?"

The nurse smiled back at him as she pushed her hair behind her ear. "I can try to find out." She blushed and said something to the other girl before getting up and leaving the glassed cubicle. As she walked down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder a couple times before she disappeared around the corner.

Ranger watched the interaction with disgust. He'd never understand what Stephanie saw in Morelli.

When the nurse came back, Ranger joined them. Her mouth hung open in awe as she got her first look at him up close. "I… um… ," she stuttered and then shook her head, kick-starting her brain. She turned to Morelli. "Are you the next of kin?"

"I'm Detective Morelli, Trenton PD. Stephanie Plum is my girlfriend," he said, and watched as her eyes clouded with disappointment. He smiled, trying to charm her further. "Could you please tell me how the surgery is going?"

She shook her head regretfully as she looked back and forth between the two men. "I'm afraid I can only give information to Mr. Manoso."

Morelli's face turned red as he narrowed his eyes at Ranger. Every time he was reminded of that damn power of attorney, he wanted to punch something.

"I'm Carlos Manoso," Ranger said. "Can you give me a status update on Stephanie's surgery?"

Her eyes got big and dreamy, and then she remembered where she was and that she had a job to do. "Everything is going well. Dr. Carson is almost done anchoring the plate and screws. It shouldn't be much longer," she said encouragingly and took her seat behind the desk.

* * *

Off in the distance, I heard an annoying high-pitched beeping sound. My eyes fluttered opened and I blinked several times to block out the bright lights. Hazy figures were talking quietly a few feet away. I tried to wave my left arm to get their attention, but it weighed a ton. When I tried my right arm, I was only able to raise it a tiny bit before it flopped to the side. The figures stopped talking and turned to me.

"Babe," Ranger said as he rushed to my side, picking up my hand, and lightly squeezed it.

"Stephanie." My mother's voice called out. I didn't want to look away from Ranger, but she was insistent. My head turned in the direction of her voice and there she was, standing next to Joe.

As they smiled down at me, an older woman rushed over. "Look who decided to join us." She smiled as she scurried around pushing buttons and reading machines. "How are you feeling honey? Are you in any pain?"

I opened my mouth to speak but had no idea what to say. My brain was sluggish, and I had a hard time understanding what was happening. She smiled, sympathetically and patted my shoulder. "I'll let your doctors know you're awake." She turned to leave.

Joe ran his hand along my jaw, affectionately. "I'm glad you're awake, Cupcake. You had us worried."

_Why was everyone worried? _

My eyes were too heavy to keep open, so I closed them. As soon as I did, someone shook me. "Stephanie, you need to wake up."

_I wanted to protest. Didn't they know I was sleepy? _

"The anesthesia was beginning to wear off, but I've given your daughter a sedative to keep her calm and resting. She'll remain this way for the next couple days. From here, she'll be moved into a regular room in the cardiac wing to complete her recovery." The voice was deep and unfamiliar, but it made me feel warm and toasty inside. I wanted to curl up in my blanket while he told me a story.

I struggled to open my eyes again and couldn't believe what I saw. My mouth hung open, and I blinked slowly. Dick Van Dyke was looking down at me. A goofy smile spread across my face, and I snickered. "Chim chiminey chim chim cher-oo," I slurred and then laughed. As quickly as the laughter started, it stopped. I was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and started to cry.

"What's wrong, Babe. Are you hurting?"

_Ahh. Don't be sad, Ranger. _

"Stephanie, can you hear me? What are you going on about?" My mother's shrill voice ricocheted off my ear drum.

_Jeez, of course I can hear you. It's not like I was deaf... Was I?_

My eyes were getting heavy again, but I fought to keep them open. I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to stay and sing. But I was losing the battle. The same magical voice spoke again, and I stayed quiet, hoping he might sing with me. _Maybe if I was a good girl._

"The surgery went well. I was able to insert a titanium plate and screws. She'll be in a cast for three weeks and then a removable splint for two more."

_Uh-Oh! Somebody got hurt. Who? _

Someone chuckled, and then I heard my mother say, "Thank you, Doctor."

_Dr. Who? _I snorted and let my head fall to the side—it was so heavy.

_Oh, there you are! Hi Ranger. _

His smile filled me with warmth. I loved that smile.

Morelli stepped into view. "Hi Joe," I mumbled. He looked mad as he frowned down at me, not responding.

_It wasn't my fault. Was it?_

"Did you say something about a chimney?" Joe asked.

I stuck my tongue out at him. _No more cannoli for you. _

Ranger chuckled.

"It's the ramblings of anesthesia. It affects people in different ways." Dick Van Dyke said. After that, I closed my eyes and stopped listening.

* * *

Helen stayed with Stephanie, while Joe and Ranger went back to the surgery waiting area. As soon as they entered, Lester and Hector jumped to their feet. "How is she?" Lester asked.

"Everything went well," Ranger said.

Joe was still trying to make sense of Stephanie's comment. "She said something about a chimney when she woke up. I don't know what it means. Hell, almost all the houses in the Barrens have fireplaces."

Lester's attention was riveted on him. "What were her exact words?"

"She said something like, chimney cha roo, but she sort of slurred the words."

Lester was quiet for a minute, and then his face slowly broke out into an ear-splitting grin. He leaned over, slapping his knee as he laughed hard. Joe bristled, clenching his fists as he got ready to punch him in the face. Ranger and Hector felt much the same way, prompting them to take a step closer. Lester sobered quickly in the face of such danger but was still working hard to hold back his laughter. "Are you sure she was talking about her kidnapping?"

Morelli narrowed his eyes, looking him up and down. He wanted to know what the hell was so funny. "What the hell else would she be talking about?"

Lester shrugged, not the least bit intimidated by Morelli. In fact, he welcomed the chance to wipe the floor with the self-proclaimed 'Italian Stallion.' "Did you happen to notice her doctor looks a lot like Dick Van Dyke?"

"Explain!" Ranger interrupted.

When Ranger took that tone, Lester knew he wasn't messing around. But it wasn't his fault that neither one of them knew Stephanie well enough to understand how her mind worked. He looked over at Hector, who was now smiling broadly, and shaking his head. The two men shared a moment of understanding. They'd watched Mary Poppins at Stephanie's apartment a few months ago while she babysat her nieces.

Lester turned back to Ranger, ignoring Morelli. "Does the movie Mary Poppins mean anything to you—cousin?"

Ranger paused to consider what Lester had said, but he wasn't making the connection. Lester had been like this since they were children—always taking delight in knowing something others didn't. "If you know something, spit it out—_cousin_." Ranger put his hand on the back of Lester's neck and squeezed—hard.

Lester's laughter abruptly died, and he straightened, putting his hands in front of him to ward off further assaults. "Okay. It's like this." He started to explain, but knew they wouldn't understand, so he got his phone out and pulled up a YouTube clip. They all watched as a man who looked almost identical to Dr. Carson danced around singing a song about a chimney.

Ranger gave a bark of laughter that had Morelli looking at him like he'd never seen him before. What did Stephanie see in the mercenary? Morelli couldn't remember a time he was jealous of anyone—until now—and he didn't like it. He shook the feeling off and watched as Lester played the clip again. He had to admit it was funny. He joined the laughter, and for a moment they were all released from the stress they'd been under.

* * *

I felt pain everywhere, but the worst of it was coming from my arm. The pain had reached into my dreams, pulling me out of my slumber. I tried to ease the pain by moving my arm, but it wouldn't move. It felt like a brick was attached to it. I moaned and slowly opened my eyes.

"Get the nurse, she's waking up again." I winced at my mother's loud voice. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was so dry it hurt.

"Are you in any pain, Stephanie?" A smiling woman looked down at me and adjusted some wires.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shakily replied. "Throat hurts."

"Can she have some water?"

_Ranger?_

"Just a little," the nurse cautioned.

Ranger held a cup with a bendy straw to my lips, and I took an uncertain sip. After I finished drinking, the nurse asked again, "Are you in any pain, Stephanie?"

I gave her a tiny nod that sent my head spinning.

"I can give you something to help with that." She patted my leg as she did something with the tubes in my arm.

I looked at Ranger, pleading with my eyes for him to explain.

"You had surgery to repair your broken hand."

_My broken hand?_

I was getting tired again. Everyone's faces got blurry and then just went away.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24 **

**Don't Shoot the Messenger**

Helen stood at the large hospital window, looking off into the distance at the majestic beauty of the Pine Barren's, contemplating how Stephanie ended up practically at deaths door. As a mother, it was hard for her to sit back and watch her youngest child make mistakes and it had been downright torture for her ever since Stephanie started working as a bounty hunter.

She turned away from the window, surveying the room. Late last night, Stephanie had been moved from CCU to this private suite in the cardiac wing. Helen hadn't stayed in many hospitals in her life, but she recognized a luxurious one when she saw it. It made her wonder how much Stephanie's friend, Ranger, was paying to keep her daughter comfortable.

She focused her thoughts on the enigmatic man. She didn't know much about him; no one else seemed to know much either. Maybe the more accurate statement would be that no one was talking—and that included Stephanie. Helen wasn't blind. She could see that Ranger was a nice-looking young man who seemed devoted to her daughter, but she was missing a piece to the puzzle. She wanted to ask him flat out what his intentions were regarding Stephanie, but something told her that wouldn't go over well.

For now, she'd hold her tongue and watch how everything unfolded. When Stephanie got better, she'd warn her to be careful with her heart so she didn't get hurt, not that it would do any good. Stephanie was stubborn about taking her advice. Helen gave a disparaging snort. Who was she kidding? Stephanie always did the opposite of whatever she suggested.

Stephanie's stubborn streak was what made her stand out in the Burg, and as her mother, Helen was watched just as closely. It made the busy bodies feel better about themselves when they pointed out other women's faults. But what they didn't know, or understand, was that it further divided women as a group.

It wasn't that Helen cared what others thought—it was more that she wanted the best for her daughters. Sadly, the Burg had its own social hierarchy, and if you wanted to fit in, you had to act and perform a certain way. She should know, she'd tried for years to fit in, asking herself many times if the effort was worth it. Trying to be perfect was exhausting which is why she couldn't make it through the day anymore without a drink… or two.

The nip she'd taken at the hotel before coming to see Stephanie was humbling. Her daughter was fighting for her life and she'd needed a quick drink. It had started so innocently. At the time, a little sip of rum while adding it to the cake mix hadn't seemed to hurt anyone, but then it became more than a sip. And then a little more. Until—.

The door opened and she turned to see a man with a flaming skull tattoo enter, carrying a vase of fresh cut daisies. He placed them on the counter with the rest of the get-well gifts and left without saying a word. Stephanie had only been in this room a few hours, and already it was filling up with bouquets of flowers, plants, balloons, stuffed animals, and gift baskets—you name it and it was here. It made her happy to know her daughter was well loved.

She rearranged the daisies to their best advantage and stood back to observe her work. Satisfied with the result, she turned toward Stephanie's bed and sighed. Waiting for her to wake up was taking its toll on Helen. She'd been by her bedside for two days now, and Dr. Powell wanted to wait another day before bringing her out of sedation.

When the door opened and Frank walked in, she melted into his arms, gaining strength from his presence. They stood side by side while Helen pulled the blanket back, revealing Stephanie's right arm. "Look at her Frank, she's skin and bones." Her voice shook with emotion as she looked up into Frank's eyes. "It's worse than the phase she went through in high school. Do you remember when she stopped eating that summer? I got so worried that I took her to the doctor," Helen continued before he could answer. "It took her quite some time to put that weight back on."

Frank nodded his head and squeezed Helen closer. He did remember that summer. He'd been scared for his daughter's health and didn't know how to help her either. He was man enough to admit he was clueless about women, but even he could see that Stephanie had been hurting back then. The only person she'd talk to was the Molnar girl. And now, years later, he still didn't know how to help his daughter. "She'll be alright," he assured his wife. "As soon as Dr. Powell says it's okay, you'll cook for her and, she'll put the weight back on just like before."

Helen nuzzled into her husband and let the tears flow. "I don't know Frank; something tells me this time it's not going to be that easy for her to come back to us." She angrily waved her hands over Steph's body. "The things he did to her, just look at the marks on her wrists and ankles." She gave a frustrated sigh and tucked the blanket back around Stephanie. "Why won't she quit that job?"

It was the same story with Helen. She hated Stephanie's job, and wanted her to settle down, but Frank knew Stephanie wasn't like the other girls in the Burg. She'd tried to make her mother happy by marrying and settling down, and it had been a disaster. He leaned back so he could see her face clearly. "We don't know that this had anything to do with her job."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course, it does. It's always about that damn job. If Vinnie hadn't hired her, she'd be married by now with a child of her own to take care of."

"If she wanted that kind of life, she'd have it." He let out a frustrated breath. "You have to let her make her own decisions. The more you criticize and pressure her, the more you push her in the direction you don't want."

Ranger chose that moment to step into the room. He'd arrived just behind Frank and decided to give them a moment alone with Stephanie before he went inside. Unfortunately, he couldn't help overhearing as Helen whined about Stephanie's life choices and that pissed him off. She was entirely to focused on her own wishes and not enough on what made Stephanie happy. The way he saw it, if she really loved her daughter, she'd be more interested in her happiness. But now was not the time to start a battle with Helen Plum.

Frank took a hard look at Ranger, noticing his fresh clothes, and slightly damp hair. He'd obviously gone to the hotel and showered, but his eyes were still tired. The man was a mystery to him. It was clear that Ranger was in love with Stephanie, but he couldn't figure out why he didn't do anything about his feelings. He gathered Helen's purse, and handed it to her. "Why don't we go down to the cafeteria for breakfast? Carlos will stay with her for a while." She nodded and took her purse from him.

Ranger watched them leave, grateful for the man's consideration. After talking with Steph's doctor early this morning, he'd been assured she was out of the woods. It'd been almost 48 hours since they'd found her, and he'd been past due for a shower. Helen had promised to call him immediately if there were any changes.

He hadn't liked leaving her, but his men would make sure no one entered her room unless they were verified hospital personnel or an authorized visitor. Stephanie's kidnapper was still on the loose, and since she could personally testify to his crimes, she was still a target. Her kidnapper might be desperate enough to tie up loose ends, but Ranger wasn't going to let anything else happen to Stephanie.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand. "I'm back, Babe. Had to go get cleaned up." He smiled even though she couldn't see him. "I was starting to get a little ripe." He leaned in close, kissing her forehead, and letting her smell the Bvlgari on his skin. He knew how much she loved his scent, and thankfully, Ella had included a bottle in the bag she packed.

The bruises on her face were starting to fade to a mixture of green and yellow. It was visible proof her body was healing, but he couldn't help wondering what was happening on the inside. He knew full well some scars _never_ healed. He didn't want to contemplate what all she went through. When she got out of here, she was going to need to see a therapist and he'd make sure she moved to a better apartment. Those were things he could help with—and he would. He'd do anything she needed if she'd just come back to him.

He gently rubbed the back of his fingers over her swollen cheeks and whispered, "What happened to you, Babe?"

* * *

It was late afternoon when Tank poked his head into Stephanie's room. "Can I come in?"

Ranger gave him a barely detectable nod and Tank made his way to the other side of the bed. Ranger could see the weariness around the big man's eyes. Overseeing Rangeman and finding Stephanie's kidnapper was taking its toll on Tank. Thankfully, Ranger's Uncle Alejandro, COO of the Miami branch, sent a few of his best men to help with the day to day running of the Trenton office.

"How is she?" Tank asked quietly.

"Better," Ranger said as he kissed the tips of her fingers, never taking his eyes off her. "Report."

Tank knew that Ranger wasn't asking how the company was doing. He wanted to know about the investigation. Normally, Ranger was all business, but right now, he couldn't muster a care for anything but Stephanie.

Tank cleared his throat, wishing he had better news. "We haven't been able to come up with any actionable leads." He fought the urge to sigh in frustration. "I have every available man combing the Pine Barren's. They're searching all structures, traveling along all the trails and roads, and knocking on every door. So far, everyone has complied with requests to enter their homes and look around. There's been no sign of any place that could have been used to hold Stephanie. And no one's behaved suspiciously."

"What did you get from the truck?"

"The explosion destroyed the VIN number and the phone. The feds sent them to their lab anyway. Maybe their techs can pull something, but it doesn't look hopeful. The only thing we were able to salvage was the plates."

"Registration?"

Tank lowered his eyes, shaking his head in regret. "They were registered to a 2011, Chevy Impala. Owner is seventy-two-year old Thelma Washington from Hamilton Township. She wasn't aware the plates were missing."

"I want to know everything about her," Ranger said. "Does she have a son or grandson, a maintenance man, someone who mows her yard?"

"She has a clean record," Tank said as he referred to his phone. "She taught fourth grade for forty years, and never married. No children. A neighbor boy, fourteen-year-old, Elias Rosen, cuts her grass and takes care of the gardening. He has no priors, perfect attendance, all around good student. Her groceries are delivered by her next-door neighbor, June Saperstein, every Wednesday. She has no other visitors. She lives on a fixed income and only drives to her doctor's appointments. The last one was December third. The car is kept inside a locked garage, and there were no signs of forced entry. Most likely the tag was stolen from the doctor's office parking lot."

Usually Ranger's emotions were barely detectable, but right now he was having a hard time controlling the desire to put his fist through the wall. "The phone Stephanie used to call for help; who was the number registered to?"

Tank mentally braced himself, knowing that Ranger wasn't going to like hearing what he had to tell him. "It was a burner."

That was a disappointment, but nothing Ranger hadn't expected. He thought about the clothes she was wearing when they found her, remembering the amount of blood on them. "What about the skin under her fingernails, and the blood on her hands and clothes?"

"There were two different types," Tank said. "One matched Stephanie and the other is from an unknown white male. DNA profile suggests his age is between 30 and 35 years of age. The feds didn't find a match when they ran it through CODIS."

That didn't help at all. They already knew her abductor was a white male in the same age range as Stephanie and that he was smart enough not to leave any clues behind, but he'd messed up somewhere along the way because Stephanie had gotten free. "How much of the blood was from Stephanie?" Ranger asked.

"Hard to tell, but the lab estimates twenty percent was from her and the rest came from the unsub."

Interesting. Ranger wasn't sure what to make of that. Where were _her_ clothes? Had she injured the man somehow and then put his clothes on before she fled? What if her abductor was hurt badly? He could need medical attention. There were too many questions and not enough answers. "Check all the hospitals within a one-hundred-mile radius for an injured man fitting the profile, and if you don't find anything, expand the search parameters." He considered the actual clothing she was wearing when she was found. Maybe they held a clue that would help them find him. "What about the clothing itself? What does it tell us about the unsub?"

Tank referred to his phone for exact measurements. "Pockets were empty. Pants were men's size 32, shirt and coat size large, and boots size 10."

Ranger's jaw clenched. "Check the labels. Find out where they were bought. Show the sketch to the sales people and see if they recognize him."

"I'll run them down," Tank said, and then waited patiently, sensing Ranger had more to add.

Ranger paused for moment, taping his finger on the bedside rail—considering. "Put together a full dossier on Special Agent Barry Hobbs." He shifted his jaw from side to side—his nostril's flaring. "He seems to have a major issue with Stephanie, and I want to know why." The muscles in Ranger's back were coiled tight, spoiling for a fight.

"Consider it done," Tank said. They'd been friends since boot camp, forced to do things that would have mentally broken most men. And right now, Tank was seriously worried about Ranger's mental state. It didn't take a genius to decipher the subtext involving his orders. Ranger wanted to hurt someone—and if he couldn't hurt the man who kidnapped Stephanie, he'd settle for the man who was disrespecting her. Which meant Agent Hobbs was in real danger. But, like always, he had Ranger's back, and in this case, it looked like that meant ensuring he stayed out of prison. Ranger had saved his life more times than he could count and now it was time for him to return the favor.

At the same time, Tank also had to take care of Rangeman business, which was behind schedule. There were contracts to sign, new employees to interview, and payroll to approve. Emilio would be heading back to Miami soon and taking his men with him. It had been helpful having them here to handle the day to day operations, freeing up the rest of the men to search for Stephanie, but things were settling down, and it was time for them to go home.

Ranger gently lay Stephanie's hand back on the bed and walked over to the window, looking out at the Pine Barren's. He was feeling restless not being an active part of the investigation, but right now Stephanie needed him. He was the only one who could calm her when she got agitated. "Find out everything the feds have on the investigation, I want Rangeman in the loop every step of the way. If they give you any problems, let me know." No matter what he had to do or how long it took, Ranger was going to find the man that did this to her, and when he did, he was going kill him.

"Give 'Little Girl' my best," Tank said and left without another word.

As the door shut behind Tank, Ranger took a deep breath and let his head fall back on his shoulders. He'd expected better news. When Stephanie woke up, he wanted to be able to tell her that her kidnapper would never hurt her again. Whoever this man was, he was smart, calculating, and evil. Ranger would track him to hell and back if that's what it took.

He sat on the edge of her bed again, taking her hand in his as he replayed the last word's she spoke to him before she was taken.

'_I guess I want to know if you're in love with me—the kind of love people build a future on.'_

Why hadn't he told her the truth—that she was everything to him—and nothing else mattered? His stupid lifestyle was just an excuse, one he'd used countless times when women became clingy. He wasn't supposed to use it with her—but he had. More than once. When he closed his eyes, he could still see all the emotions as they crossed her face that day. There was love and hope—but what haunted him the most was the flash of disappointment when she realized he wasn't going to offer her more. That one look broke his heart. He felt it like a physical punch.

_'__Your lifestyle is what you make it, Ranger. If you wanted to change things, you would.'___

She shook her head and forced a smile on her face, not the least bit fooled by his half-assed reasoning. The smile was a little too bright at first, and then it slowly dimmed, turning bittersweet. He'd done that. He'd taken her light and darkened it. If he could do it over, he'd like to think he'd make a different choice. If he was honest with himself—and he always tried to be—he could admit she was his end game. If he was ever going to settle down and have a future, he wanted it to be with her.

Then she did something unexpected. She kissed him long and hard and when she pulled away, he felt the difference. Something had shifted between them. She'd looked up at him, giving him a lopsided smile, reflecting her sadness and regret. She was pulling back emotionally, and he felt it like a blast of arctic wind.

She thought he was choosing not to be with her—that he didn't love her enough—but she was wrong. He loved her enough not to get her killed. Being with him was an open invitation for his enemies to take revenge on him. If they knew he had a weakness, they'd use her as leverage against him—or worse—kill her. He'd die before he let that happen.

But maybe it already had. Maybe what happened to her was a warning from someone in his past. All the torture she went through could be because of him. The fact is, he didn't know. It made him feel things he hadn't felt since Julie had been kidnapped because of him. He wasn't a man prone to fear. If he had a problem, he concocted a plan and executed it flawlessly, but with all his various contingency plans—he never saw Stephanie coming. She was a force of nature, floating in and out of his life at will. He flirted with the idea of sharing closet space with her, and possibly offering her something more—someday—but it always seemed unattainable.

If he'd listened to his heart, he'd have moved her into his seventh-floor apartment where she would have been safe. Instead of giving her the option, he sat back and let her continue living in her unsafe apartment. But that was his inflated ego talking because there had never been a chance Stephanie would accept his offer to live with him, not without a commitment, and that was something he didn't think he could ever offer her.

But losing her was something he couldn't face either. It was unacceptable, and yet it almost happened. His heart raced just thinking about how close it had been. All the nights he stayed up, searching for her as his guilt slowly ate away at him. Someone had been following her—been in her apartment—talked with her family, and he hadn't known.

Why didn't she come to him?

He was afraid he knew the answer. He'd left her with no hope of a future, and she didn't think she _could_ come to him anymore. He had no one to blame but himself.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

**He Made His Bed, Now He Has to Lie in It**

"Good morning." A young guy in blue scrubs entered the room, smiling when he spotted Ranger lying beside Stephanie, cradling her close. "My name is Brandon and I'll be Ms. Plum's nurse today. I just need to do a quick check."

"How is she?" Ranger asked as he slid off the bed without letting Stephanie's hand go.

Brandon took her vitals and then adjusted a few buttons on her monitor. "She's doing well."

"When will Dr. Powell bring her out of sedation?"

"Another day at least. She'll be in shortly to go over everything with you," Brandon said as he pulled Steph's blanket back and removed the bandage on her chest so he could check her catheter. "Her incision looks good and there's no sign of infection."

Ranger held his breath as he watched the nurse carefully remove the drainage plug and turn the bulb upside down, squeezing the fluid into a measuring cup. He let out a relieved breath when only a small amount of fluid dripped into the cup.

Brandon held it up to get a better look. "It's less than 10 milliliters. Dr. Powell will probably want to remove the catheter soon, but Ms. Plum will need another echocardiogram first." He applied a new bandage and then pushed the call button on Steph's bed. "We're ready in here." A moment later, the door swung open, and two orderlies came in. Ranger followed as they rolled Steph down the hall to a dark room set up with an ultrasound machine. A woman in pink scrubs stood waiting for them.

"Hello, I'm Audrey." She smiled openly at Ranger, but with only professional interest. "I'll be doing Ms. Plum's ultrasound today."

It took about twenty minutes to complete the test. Fortunately, this time Ranger was able to stay by her side, holding her hand. He didn't want Stephanie to be alone, even for a second. He tried to hold his questions till the end, but his worry was growing, and he had to know. "Does everything look okay?"

Audrey's features stayed professionally neutral, not giving anything away. "I only administer the test Mr. Manoso. Dr. Powell will interpret the images." Ranger understood now, why Stephanie got frustrated with him for hiding his reactions. It left the other person in the dark, forcing them to form their own conclusions—right or wrong.

Mere minutes after Steph was settled back in her room, Dr. Powell came in, followed by Brandon who was pushing a medical computer cart. She offered a cursory smile and settled her attention on the computer monitor. She was quiet for several minutes while she studied the latest echo results. When she was done, she looked up, giving him an encouraging smile. "The fluid around her heart is back to normal levels and showing no sign of damage." Brandon set up a supply tray beside the bed while Dr. Powell tugged on the tube, quickly sliding it out of Stephanie's chest.

"Will she need stitches?" Ranger asked.

"Not with an incision this small." Dr. Powell applied a new bandage to the area and began typing her notes into the computer. "I'm going to order her sedation lowered," she said without looking up from the screen. "She should wake up sometime in the morning."

Ranger exhaled a slow sigh of relief that Stephanie was doing well and watched as Brandon and Dr. Powell left the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, he leaned down and gently brushed his lips over Stephanie's. Minutes later, Morelli strolled in, looking tired, but better than he had before they'd found Stephanie. Each morning and afternoon, he drove from Trenton to spend a couple hours with her. "Any change?" Morelli asked as he took his coat off and leaned down, giving Steph a light kiss on the lips.

Ranger's mouth twitched, wanting badly to smile. He took perverse pleasure in knowing that he'd been kissing those same lips moments before Morelli arrived. "She's better," Ranger finally said. "Dr. Powell took the catheter out of her chest and lowered her sedation."

Morelli gently traced his fingers over her jaw and then moved to the center of her chest, gently rubbing over the place where the catheter had been.

Watching Morelli touch her bothered Ranger in ways he refused to acknowledge. It reminded him that Morelli had a right to put his hands on her anytime he wanted. His possessive urges were overpowering his self-control, tempting him to throw the cop's hands off her. The last time they'd been in this position, Morelli had taken great pleasure in blaming Stephanie's kidnapping on him. He'd let him get away with it once—but there wouldn't be a second time.

Ranger gathered his coat. He had no desire to listen to Morelli profess his love to Stephanie. Since she was doing better, he felt it safe to head over to the hotel and get a little sleep. Morelli never stayed long. He'd head back to Trenton soon, and Ranger would again have her all to himself.

* * *

My eyes fluttered open, letting the harsh fluorescent light seep in, jabbing me with its intensity. I moaned and snapped them closed again.

_Why was it so bright? Where was I? _

When I chanced another try, I saw a woman with gray-hair smiling down at me. "Hi there, I'm Gail."

My head swirled with confusion. It was as if my thoughts had to travel on an elevator to get to the right floor, and someone kept pressing the stop button. I felt pressure on my hand, and looked down, noticing a tube was taped to my hand and warm masculine fingers were wrapped around mine. An ache formed in my heart as I let my eyes slowly travel up the mocha colored arm until I saw Ranger smiling down at me, giving me the full grill. My heart did a funny little skip. "Where… am… I?" I tried to ask, but it hurt my throat to speak and the words came out broken.

"You're in the hospital, Cupcake." I forced myself to look away from Ranger and found Joe standing on the other side of me, giving me a hopeful smile. The light was making my head hurt so I shut my eyes to let them rest. After a minute, I opened them again and squinted as I looked around the room. _This was a hospital room. Why was I in the hospital? _

"Can you tell me your name?" the gray-haired woman asked.

_My name? Didn't Ranger and Joe tell them who was?_ Nothing was making sense. I opened my mouth to ask what was going on and nothing came out. I swallowed, wincing at the dryness. Ranger held a straw to my lips, and I drank greedily. "Small sips," he whispered as he bent to kiss my forehead.

The water burned as it slid down my sore throat, but it also soothed. When I was able to speak, I whispered my name. "Stephanie… Plum." The woman gave me a triumphant smile as if I'd just answered the winning question on Jeopardy.

The door opened and Mom and Dad walked in. Her steps faltered when her eyes landed on me and she broke out in a grin. "You're awake!" She exclaimed and turned to my dad. "Frank, she's awake."

"I can see that Helen." He smiled and held her hand as they both walked closer.

My eyes drifted back to Ranger. "Babe." His gentle smile made him even more handsome—if that were possible.

There was something sticking out of my nose. I pulled my hand out of Rangers, clumsily feeling around to find out what it was. When I grabbed hold of a plastic tube, my mom moved my hand away. "Leave that alone," she scolded. "It's your feeding tube."

As soon as she touched my wrist, frightening images started flashing through my mind. A belt whizzing through the air, landing on my back. Metal cuffs digging into my skin as I struggled. A fist flying toward me. That horrible smell. My heart started racing and from far away, I heard a high-pitched keening sound. Dizziness clouded my vision, and everything turned black again.

"Ms. Plum." My eyes fluttered as an assertive voice broke through my unconsciousness. "Can you hear me?" I opened my eyes to find a middle-aged woman with short wispy blonde hair assessing me. "I'm Dr. Powell," she said.

"What… what happened to me?"

"You were in an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"We were hoping you could tell us." She waited and when I didn't offer an explanation, she gave me a comforting smile, and turned her attention to Joe and Ranger. "Would you step back so I can examine Stephanie?" Both men quickly obliged and then she started speaking to me again. "Now that you're awake, you won't need this feeding tube, but I'll wait to remove it until we know how well you tolerate eating on your own." I was trying to keep up with everything she was saying, but it was hard to focus.

She placed her stethoscope over my chest. "Take a deep breath for me." I tried to obey, but when I inhaled, it triggered a fit of coughing. The movement had my body jerking so badly I wanted to cry out. She noticed my discomfort and said, "You've just come out of heavy sedation. Once I'm finished with my examination, I'll give you something to help you rest comfortably." When I recovered enough to breathe evenly, she continued her exam. "Can you turn over on your side?"

As soon as I tried to turn over, pain sliced through my ribs, bringing tears to my eyes. Ranger quickly stepped towards me, supporting my shoulder as he gently rolled me onto my side. The doctor pressed her stethoscope to my back and listened. "Your lungs are clearing up nicely." She tugged on my skin as she pulled the bandages away to check the wounds on my back. I heard a swift intake of breath and a feral groan coming from Joe and Ranger. I winced as the doctor pressed in several places. "I know it hurts, Stephanie, but the good news is, your wounds are looking better."

Ranger gently supported me as he helped me get situated again. It took a few minutes for the pain to dull to a bearable level. When I was finally able to focus, I looked down at the cast on my hand. "What's wrong with me?"

"Besides some deep contusions, you have several lacerations on your back," Dr. Powell said. "You also have three broken ribs along with several broken bones in your hand and wrist. You've already had surgery to repair your hand, but you'll need to remain in the cast for three more weeks. We're also treating you for pneumonia and inflammation around the lining of your heart. Both have responded well to antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication." She gave me an encouraging smile. "Physically, you should make a full recovery."

A very tall kid in a lab coat poked his head in the room. "Are you ready for me?"

Dr. Powell smiled. "You're right on time. Stephanie, this is Dr. Harris, the Neurologist consulting on your case."

"How are you feeling today?" He smiled down at me.

"Confused… I guess."

"That's to be expected. You've had some significant bumps on your head, affecting both your frontal and temporal lobes. This type of traumatic brain injury can have long lasting, and many times permanent side effects."

_Well that scared the hell out of me. _

"Side effects?" I asked.

"Anything from confusion and disorientation to possible personality changes. You may also become more emotional or unable to recall recent events. I'd like to perform a neurological exam to get a better idea of what we're dealing with. Do you feel up to answering questions?"

I nodded.

"Can you state your full name, date of birth, and the current year?"

I swallowed. "Stephanie Plum. October 12, 1987. 2019."

"Good." He pulled a small light from his pocket and flipped it quickly in front of each eye. "How does your head feel, any dizziness or headaches?"

I paused to let myself feel the sensations in my head. "A little."

"Are you having any trouble following this conversation?"

I carefully shook my head.

"What about nausea?"

"Some."

"Since your left hand is broken, I'm just going to ask you to hold out your right arm with your palm up and close your eyes." I did what he said, and he placed his hand on top of mine. "Now push against me. Good. Now pull my hand to you. Good. Now touch your nose. Good. You're doing very well."

He moved to my legs and asked me to push against him and then raise one and then the other leg. When he was finished, he asked, "Do you recognize everyone in this room who isn't part of the hospital personnel?"

"Yes."

"Can you recall my name?"

"Dr. Harrison?"

"It's Dr. Harris, but that's close enough." He smiled. "Now tell me what you remember about your accident."

Ranger held my hand again, wrapping his warm fingers around mine while Morelli, my parents, and the doctors stood waiting for my answer. I closed my eyes, letting the frightening images tumbling around in my head settle into an order I could understand. As each image slid into place, my heart raced faster. I dug my fingernails into Ranger's hand and started shaking. Suddenly, everything aligned perfectly, and I wished I'd stayed oblivious.

I remembered every vivid detail. All the beatings. The hunger. The fear. I moved my casted hand to my chest to rub the pain away as more tears escaped, rolling down my face. Even though I remembered, I couldn't tell them that—not if I wanted Durant to pay for what he did to me—to us. Resigned to what I was about to do, I hardened myself, and after what I thought was a reasonable amount of time, I opened my eyes, and gave them a truthful, if not thorough answer. "I remember kissing you goodbye," I said to Joe. "And then I went shopping with Mary Lou."

Joe's face paled and his tone became incredulous. "But that was a month ago!" Dr. Powell gave him a scathing look and he snapped his mouth shut.

"You don't remember anything since that day?" Dr. Harris asked.

I slowly shook my head. "Have I been in a coma since the accident?"

"You haven't been in a coma, Stephanie, but your memories seem to be blocked." Noticing the panicked expression on my face, he quickly continued. "They may or may not come back to you. It's called post traumatic amnesia. I know this is disconcerting, but for the moment, I don't want you to force your memories. Let them come naturally." Dr. Harris turned and made eye contact with Dr. Powell. "It's essential that no one presses her to remember before she's ready."

I couldn't have been more grateful. Without being aware—he was making it easier on me. Even though I remembered everything Durant had done to me, I didn't know what happened after I wrecked his truck. That time period was completely blank. "H… How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Ranger said.

My stomach clenched.

_Three days? You could die of dehydration in that time. Was Durant dead? Had I murdered him? _

When the machines started beeping, Ranger leaned in close, his dark eyes locking with mine. "You're safe; no one can hurt you now."

I believed Ranger. Durant would have to get past him first and that would never happen.

_Should I tell them about the cellar and Durant?_ I debated and decided, no, I wasn't going to tell them. With his injuries, he had to be dead by now. But what if he wasn't? I couldn't take the chance. He was going to die for what he did. I was going to make sure of it. He didn't deserve his day in court, and I couldn't take the chance authorities would let him go. Not after the vile things he'd done to me… to us. Since he was so enamored with the idea of starving people to death, he should experience it for himself. It seemed fitting the women stand watch over him as he breathes his last breath in the prison of his own making.

"Do you have any questions?" Dr. Powell asked.

I had so many things I wanted to ask, but the problem with asking questions was that people tend to ask them back—and I had no answers I wanted to give. But there was one thing I desperately wanted to know. "What day is it?"

"It's the morning of January 26," Dr. Powell said as she searched my face for signs of comprehension.

If my math was correct, I'd been in the cellar for twenty-nine days. I started breathing harder. It was making my chest burn and yet I couldn't seem to stop gasping. Dr. Powell spoke quietly to the nurse, and she left the room.

"Shhh, Babe. I've got you." Ranger sat with his hip on my bed, carefully propping me against his shoulder. I inhaled his familiar scent while he gently stroked my hair until my breathing steadied and I began to feel drowsy. Even through the drug induced haze, I could feel the irritation emanating from Joe as he witnessed Ranger tenderly caring for me.

Dr. Harris asked to speak with everyone out in the hall. Ranger made sure I was settled and joined my parents and Joe. With the door open, I could see and hear every word. "The worst thing you can do is force her to remember before she's mentally and emotionally ready," Dr. Harris said. "Right now, the goal is to keep her calm."

"What about the FBI agents; they call me every day wanting to question her?" Joe asked.

_FBI agents? Shit! _

Dr. Powell's voice hardened. "No one, and I mean no one, will be questioning Stephanie until I say so." She made direct eye contact with Joe and Ranger. "That goes for everyone, including the two of you, do I make myself clear?"

Joe and Ranger nodded reluctantly at the same time as my mother said, "Of course, doctor, we'll do whatever's best for Stephanie."

While they were out in the hall, the nurse came back in carrying a syringe in her hand. She injected the medication in my IV and busied herself taking my blood pressure. As she helped me take a drink of water, my stomach made an angry growling sound. "How does some broth and Jell-O sound?" I managed a small nod. It didn't sound great, I was thinking more along the lines of a steak and baked potato, but I guess it would have to do.

"You've had a lot of people worried about you honey. Lots of men in black uniforms have been running in and out of this room the past few days. I finally had to put my foot down to let you have some peace and quiet." Her voice made it sound like she was annoyed, but her smile told me she enjoyed every bit of it. A small ray of joy spread through me at the thought of her bossing Ranger and the Merrymen around. She was still talking to me when the outline of her body became hazy. With each blink, she faded more and more—until she was gone.

* * *

The late afternoon sun slowly lowered, casting rays of light across Stephanie's hospital bed. Ranger had gone to the hotel across the street to sleep while her parents had returned to Trenton for the night, leaving Joe alone with her. It was the first time he'd had this much uninterrupted time and he was savoring it.

He sat quietly, holding her hand while she slept. He wished he could do the same. He'd spent the last month hounding his informants for information and going over every possible lead to find her. Some nights he hadn't even made it home to bed. And now that she was found, he had to return to his regular work schedule. He'd used up all his vacation time searching for her. He didn't have his own company like Ranger, and he couldn't afford to take off without pay.

Stephanie made a low sound in her throat and started thrashing her head from side to side; most likely reliving the hell she'd been through. He wanted to crawl under the blanket with her and comfort her but there wasn't enough room. Instead, he squeezed her hand, reminding her she wasn't alone.

Once he got her home, and in his bed, he was going to slip in behind her, bring her body close against his to reassure them both that she was safe. He'd never let anything like this happen to her again. But as much as he loved her, he was perturbed that she never took her physical safety seriously. So many times, he literally worried himself sick over her and it had to stop.

Maybe this was the wakeup call she needed in order to make a change. He didn't mind her working, but he didn't want to spend all his time worrying that his wife might not come home at the end of the day. If he'd wanted that headache, he could've married someone in his field, there was plenty of women to choose from.

But that wasn't the only reason he was mad. From the moment he walked into the emergency room, he'd felt like an outsider in her life. Somehow, without realizing it, Ranger had wormed his way into their lives, but now it was time for him to go. He was going to make it perfectly clear to Stephanie that it was either him or Ranger. There couldn't be both—not anymore.

"When are you going to see him for the user he is?" he asked, even though she couldn't hear him. "He doesn't want you. A man like him will never be satisfied with a normal life." The more Joe thought about Ranger, the hotter his blood boiled. He was man enough to admit he was jealous. He gritted his teeth when he thought of the differences between himself and Ranger.

Ranger had his own company, money to burn, the respect of his men, and probably endless women in his bed. And all he had was his Aunt's house, a few months' worth of wages in the bank, and not much else. His hand made a bristling sound as he ran it over his five o'clock shadow. "I expected you to say 'yes' when I got down on my knee and asked you to marry me. It hurt me that you needed to think about it."

He lowered his voice to a whisper and shook his head in regret. "I know I haven't always been good to you." His shoulders deflated, taking on the visage of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "From now on, I'm going to do everything in my power to show you how much you mean to me."

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts.

"Morelli."

He paused to listen and then blew out a breath. He was being called into work. That was the problem with murder; they always happened at an inconvenient time. Crime didn't stop for his personal emergency, and if he wanted to keep his job, he needed to report to the scene of a homicide in the warehouse district of Trenton.

He put his phone back in his pocket and got to his feet, gazing down at Stephanie, regret clouding his face. Stephanie's mother was going to be pissed when she found out he'd left her alone, but what choice did he have? "I'm sorry, Cupcake." He leaned over, kissing her forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

**Bruised and Battered**

My breaths were coming faster and faster—so fast I was panting. If he comes any closer, I'm going to kick him in the balls. _See how you like that, motherfucker. _Somehow, he got ahold of my hands and was trying to tie me to the bed again. "No!" I screamed, twisting back and forth.

"Stephanie!" Someone urgently called to me. I didn't recognize the voice, but it sounded comforting. "Wake up," she said, her hands on my shoulder, gently shaking me. I jolted awake, my heart banging in my chest, and my mouth hanging open as I took in great gulps of air. My eyes darted around, looking for Durant, but I couldn't see him. The room was dim and full of shadows.

_Where am I?_

"You're okay, it was just a bad dream," she said softly and reached above me, turning on an overhead light. It was bright enough to see that I wasn't in the cellar anymore. I remembered waking up in the hospital earlier and felt immediate relief. As I worked to slow my breathing, I looked around the room, expecting to see Joe, but it was empty except for the nurse standing over me. She had bright red hair that could have only come from a box and I guessed she was somewhere in her fifties, but with her dark cherry lipstick and hair cut in a trendy stacked bob, she appeared younger.

She pressed a few buttons on the monitors and reviewed a paper printout. "That was some nightmare you were having." She placed one hand on her hip, causing her pink scrub top to stretch across her ample bosom. "I'm Cathy," she smiled. I could tell right away, she was one tough cookie, but there was also a kindness about her that put me at ease. "How are you feeling this evening?"

"Better." The dream was receding, and I was able to breathe easier.

She took her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to my heart. "If you're wondering where your handsome young detective is, he asked me to let you know he got called into work and he'd see you in the morning." She talked while she busied herself refilling my water pitcher. "You are one lucky girl to have so many attractive men in your life. Nurses from here to pediatrics have been coming by to get a glimpse of all those muscles." She gave me a solemn look then raised her chin and sniffed as if she'd triumphed over a great hardship. "Coming to work these past few days has been a trial, but I've managed to struggle through."

Despite the hell I'd been through, I managed a small laugh when I thought of nurses coming from far and wide to check out the Merrymen. My laugh triggered a round of coughing and tears formed in my eyes as my sore body endured the pain. After I calmed, Cathy held a straw to my lips, and I sipped the water. She set it back on the rolling table and gently rubbed my shoulder, her kind brown eyes assessing. "How's the pain?" she asked. "I can give you something more if you need it?"

I took an inventory of my body, noting the same aches and pains from earlier, but now I could add a sick stomach to the list. "I feel a little nauseous." I winced and closed my eyes, trying to steadily breathe through the discomfort.

She gave me a commiserating smile. "That's a side effect of the medicine you're on, but it'll help to get a little something in your stomach. Now that Dr. Powell's ordered the removal of your feeding tube, you'll be able to eat something more substantial and we'll increase it a little more each day." A few minutes later, the tube was out, and she was wiping my nose. "I'm also going to remove your urinary catheter," Cathy said as she repositioned the height of the bed and lifted the blanket from over my feet. "Just try to relax."

I turned away to avoid looking at her and in seconds it was out. I was relieved to have one less obstacle keeping me in this place. All I wanted was to go home, sleep in my own bed, and eat my own food whenever I wished.

After she disposed of everything, she smiled big and clapped her hands. "How does a shower sound?"

"Amazing," I said. Maybe when I was clean on the outside, I'd be clean on the inside. I slid my leg off the side of the bed ready to get on with it.

"Not so fast," she cautioned while putting her arm out to steady me. "We need to disconnect the IV tube before you can stand."

As soon as I sat up, the room started spinning. I closed my eyes, willing my head to stop going round and round. I wasn't sure I could make it to the bathroom let alone through a shower. Just sitting on the side of the bed had zapped my energy. While she covered the IV port on my hand and the incision on my chest with waterproof bandages, I focused on mustering the strength to get cleaned up. I wanted the filth from the cellar off me.

"These are all healing nicely," she said as she removed the bandages on my back, wrists, and ankles and then stepped back. "Sit here while I get everything set up in the bathroom." She walked over to the blue canvas bag on the counter. I recognized it as mine, but I had no idea how it got here or what was in it. Before I could ask, she said, "Your mother brought your purse and some of your personal items from home." She stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out my shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. My breath caught in my throat as I remembered the flimsy plan to get Durant to go to my apartment for my hair products. "Your mother said your curls require a little more than the basic shampoo and conditioner we supply here at the hospital."

Unaware she'd dredged up horrible memories, she continued setting the items on the counter and reached back inside the bag, pulling out my purple wooly socks and a pair of panties. I couldn't see which ones, but knowing my mother, she probably grabbed the pair with the fullest coverage. No thongs for her. Not that I wanted to wear a thong in the hospital. With my gown open in the back, my ass was hanging out enough as it was.

Cathy stacked everything in a pile, adding a towel and a fresh gown. After she placed everything in the bathroom, she grabbed a plastic sleeve from the counter. "Hold out your arm," she said as she pulled the waterproof sleeve over my cast and steadied me while I slid off the bed. By the time I had both feet on the floor my legs were shaking, and I was out of breath.

She put her shoulder under my arm pit, bearing my weight as I took my first step. As we walked by the bathroom mirror, I caught my first glimpse of myself, and shrieked. I looked like an extra from the Walking Dead. Cathy tried to keep going, but my feet were glued to the floor. I studied my face. My eyes were swollen and bloodshot, but at least now I could see out of my right one. There were also scratches scattered across my face and bruises in various states of healing. I was a hodge podge of yellow, black, and blue—maybe even a little purple thrown in to help round out the ROY G BIV I had going on.

I lifted my hand to touch my hair. Curls were sticking up at odd angles. I think someone had tried to wash it without using conditioner and when it dried it did—this. Not to be vain, but I cringed when I thought of Joe and Ranger seeing my hair in this condition. I tried smoothing it, but I don't know why I bothered, the curls kept springing back. Nothing would save me except to wash it with the right products and hope for the best.

I caught Cathy's wary expression in the mirror. She was probably worried I'd break down in a puddle of tears, but as far as I was concerned, nothing could be worse than what I'd already lived through.

She untied my gown in the back and before it fell away, I tightened my arms against my side, holding it in place. My face reddened as I remembered the humiliation of having to stay naked day in and day out while Durant remained clothed and watching me. Cathy sensed my unease and started chattering to soothe my inner turmoil. I didn't try to follow her words. Instead, I listened to the tone of her voice and finally started to relax. I lowered my arms, allowing the gown to drop to the floor. It took every bit of my willpower not to cower. "Hold my hand until you get seated," she said.

I took her hand, and by the time I was seated on the plastic chair in the shower, my heart was racing from the effort. She turned the water on and reached for the handheld shower wand. I let the warm water wash over me. I didn't have the strength to wash my hair myself. Just thinking about it exhausted me, so I didn't even try. The longer I sat under the water, the more upset I became… and I couldn't explain why. I started breathing harder and my eyes burned. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer and they started flowing. I was sure Cathy noticed, but she didn't comment. She simply poured shampoo in her hand and got to work. "My youngest daughter is your age and her hair is as straight as a poker." She mindlessly rambled as she massaged my hair to build lather. "She'd love to have these beautiful curls."

These stupid, fucking curls. Just like Emmie's. I hated them.

When I started crying harder, and my shoulders began to shake, her hands halted. "Am I hurting you?" she softly asked. I wanted to tell her no, but I couldn't speak. The best I could do was give my head a small shake. Being touched was bringing back all those ugly feelings and I wanted to just block them out. While I relived the vile things he did to me, I stared at the tiled shower floor, watching the water as it traveled past my toes and down the drain. The water was clear, but it should have been black and dirty like I was.

Cathy squeezed body wash onto a cloth and started to wash my shoulder. Before she could touch me, I grabbed the cloth. It was irrational. I knew she was only trying to help me, but I kept hearing Durant's voice whispering in my ear. _"__Just relax and let me take care of you." _ I remembered begging him not to do it. Not to touch me like that, but he wouldn't listen. My breathing sped up. The bathroom began to float away, and I was back in the cellar.

"You're safe, Stephanie. I promise." Cathy's soothing voice broke through my panic and drew me back to the here and now.

No matter what I did, he wouldn't leave me alone and I wondered what kind of life I was going have with him tormenting me from the grave. I took some calming breaths and when I was finally breathing normally, I ran the cloth over my stomach, lightly touching the bruises. I sucked in a breath when I glossed over my ribs, remembering how it felt to be kicked by his heavy boots. When I'd washed all I could reach, she took the cloth from me. "Would you like me to wash your back?"

I wanted to be clean everywhere, but I wasn't sure I could let her do it. As if she sensed I was trying to work things out in my head, she started talking. "I used to work in pediatrics. My favorite thing about that job was bathing the babies. They are so tiny and had all the trust in the world that I was going to take care of them." I knew she was trying to let me know she wasn't going to hurt me, and I appreciated her effort. I gave my head a small nod and she tenderly washed my back and began rinsing me off with the shower wand. The water was hot, but I didn't complain. I didn't think there was enough hot water in the world to make me clean again.

Cathy turned off the tap and helped me to my feet. As she wrapped a towel around me, I stared at the floor, letting the tears drip down, wondering what she must think of me. "Stephanie, I don't know what happened to you and Dr. Powell doesn't want anyone questioning you, but sweetheart, I can see that you've been through something awful. If you want to talk, I have a pretty big ear I could lend you."

I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold in all the emotions overwhelming me, but a woman as wonderful as her, wouldn't understand the evil I'd lived through. And she damn sure wouldn't understand that my silence was allowing a man to die as we speak.

"I also have a very good friend you could talk to. She's a therapist that deals in all kinds of trauma. Would you like that?"

I shook my head. I wanted to forget it, not relive it. And there were certain parts I didn't think I'd ever tell anyone.

"I won't push, sweetheart. You just let me know if you change your mind." She picked up the pair of panties my mom had brought from my apartment. I recognized them instantly and bit back a smile. I guess this was my mother's way of trying to cheer me up.

Cathy's face broke out in a giant smile. "Tinkerbell?"

My smile got bigger. But then I remembered Ranger buying them for me at Disney World, and the smile fell from my face. He'd stripped them off me and proceeded to give my body an excellent workout. I choked on a sob. I knew I wasn't to blame for the things Durant did to me, but how was I ever going to let a man touch me intimately without feeling his hands on me—in me.

"Thank you," I said as she helped me pull the panties up and then slid my fluffy purple socks on my feet.

"I'm glad to do it." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand and helped me back to bed.

After she hooked up the IV port, she reapplied my bandages and retrieved my hairbrush. "May I?" she asked, her face hopeful. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I nodded even though I didn't really want anyone brushing my hair—not after Durant dressed me like a doll. When all the tangles were smoothed out, she put the brush away and helped me lie back, smoothing the blanket around me. "If you need to go to the bathroom, push the call button and I'll come right away. Okay?"

I nodded, but I already knew I wouldn't be calling anyone. I was bone tired by the time I settled into bed and I drifted off immediately.

* * *

The pain of a full bladder woke me. I checked the clock on the wall—9:00 p.m. I couldn't believe I'd only been asleep for a couple hours. On shaky legs, I slowly pushed the IV pole across the floor to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I stood at the sink washing my hands, trying not to look at myself in the mirror, but like a magnet, my eyes were drawn to my reflection. I hadn't examined myself closely earlier, not with Cathy watching.

I pulled the gown apart and grimaced at the loose skin hanging on my bones. I didn't even look like me. Tears flooded my eyes, leaking down my face. I knew it'd be bad, but I had no idea. My skin had a sickly, yellow tint with bruised patches that were black and blue in places and yellow and green in others. I turned to the side, so I could see my back. The worst of it was bandaged, but I could see where the belt had left crisscrossing marks from my shoulders down to my knees.

I grabbed hold of the sink as if I could feel the strap of the belt hitting me. My heart raced, pounding its beat behind my eyes and in my ears. I was starting to sweat, and my skin felt prickly. His hands were on me, holding me down. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. I sucked in great gulps of air, but it wasn't enough.

Slowly, the pressure in my head receded and I was able to breathe again. When I thought I could make it back to bed, I released my grip on the sink and opened the door.

I caught a whiff of something familiar.

Christmas.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

**Consider Yourself Warned**

A fierce wave of anger rolled over me as I stood in the open doorway of the bathroom. I knew that smell… and it didn't have anything to do with the recent holidays. Diesel was sitting in the reclining chair by my bed, with his elbows propped on his knees and his head hanging down—staring at the floor.

_Now he shows up… when I don't need his help anymore. _

"Please don't hate me, Sunshine," he said without looking up, his voice sounding pained.

Several times I'd called out to him while I was trapped in the cellar—but he never came. He can pop in anywhere he wants and yet he left me down there. Sure, he sounded regretful, but it didn't explain why he abandoned me to that hell. "Why?" I asked, trying to control my anger, but it was bleeding through anyway. "Didn't you hear me calling for you?"

"I always hear when you call my name," he said hoarsely. "And most times I can sense when you need my help." He sat up and turned to me, nervously stroking his beard, pulling the hairs to a fine point at his chin.

"Yet, you didn't come… obviously!" I bit my lip, not sure I wanted to listen to what he had to say.

He let out a defeated breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "I was grounded."

"Grounded?" I repeated incredulously. How in the hell could a grown man with his talents be grounded?

His nostrils flared as his fury sprang to life. "More like the BUM forbade me from interfering. I was told this was something you had to go through on your own—that it was part of your journey. If I stepped in, it would alter your future."

The first time Diesel popped into my life, he told me about the Board of Unmentionable Marshalls. They were the governing body of all unmentionables and Diesel worked for them as a bounty hunter. According to him, he was human but with talents I'd never understand, and as I listened to his explanation, his remorse pierced the anger surrounding my heart. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and slowly started walking toward him, pushing my IV pump along with me. I stood in front of him and asked the big question glaring me in the face. "Why are you here now?"

He shrugged. "I had to see with my own eyes that you were okay."

I crossed in front of him with the bed behind me, my arms down at my side, shivering in the thin hospital gown. He reached out and gently pulled me across his lap, careful not to put any pressure on my broken ribs. I melted into his embrace, snuggling closer into his muscular body with my side pressed against his chest and my feet on the seat beside his thigh. "I thought I was going to die," I whispered as my emotions overloaded. My voice became hoarse and tears threatened. I didn't want to relive what happened down there, but I needed to know how much he knew. "Do you know what he did to us?"

"Yeah." He whispered regretfully as he tucked my head under his chin, rubbing his scruffy beard against my curls.

"Can I tell you something?" His body tensed. He was probably afraid I was going to tell him all the horrible things that were done to me.

"You can tell me anything, Sunshine."

I hid my face in his chest, shoulders sagging. "As bad as I felt for the women he killed, I hated having to look at them every day."

He toyed with a curl, twirling it around his finger. He didn't say anything or judge me. So, I took a chance and asked him what I was most afraid to find out. "Do you know if he's dead?"

"The latest update from the BUM was that he is still alive… barely."

I wasn't sure how I felt about that. It wasn't too late to stop this. As soon as it popped into my head, I shook the thought away. I couldn't take the chance some bleeding heart on a jury would feel sorry for his sad childhood and give him a chance to hurt other women. I told myself I was doing the right thing—saving society from going through a trial—when really my actions were self-serving. Having my life dissected by people who didn't know me, that hadn't walked in my shoes, was the last thing I wanted.

But sometimes, the lies we tell ourselves to justify our actions are the hardest to live with. They bother you like the seam of a sock that's slightly crooked and hurts your feet with each step you take. You wiggle your toes and try to adjust your foot, but it doesn't help—nothing does except taking off the sock to find relief. In this case, that would mean reporting the location of the cellar, and I wasn't prepared to do that. I leaned back, meeting his eyes, challenging him to tell me I was doing the wrong thing. "I'm not going to tell them where he is... not until he's dead. Does that make me a bad person?"

He cocked his head to the side, and I could see the fire in his eyes. "You're the kindest person I know and I'm not going to judge you for doing what you need to do."

"If I tell them where he is, they could go and arrest him and he would live, but I can't make the words come out," I confessed, my eyes overflowing with tears. They rolled down my cheeks and my body shook with silent sobs as I let everything out. I hated for anyone to see me cry but trying to hold them in was like plugging up Niagara Falls. It just wasn't happening.

He tightened his arms around me as my body racked with deep soul crushing sobs. I was overwhelmed with grief, anger, and pain for what the women and I went through, but there was also a sense of peace when I thought of Durant chained up on the dingy mattress waiting to die. He knew better than anyone what would happen to him without food and water, and I hoped he suffered both mentally and physically until his last breath.

"You're killing me, Sunshine!"

"I can't stop," I said in between sobs. He reached for a tissue on the bedside table, grabbing several and handing them to me as he rubbed my back soothingly.

"Shhh… Just let it all out. I've got you."

I wiped my eyes and nose, slowly regaining my composure as he held me through it all. "Could you see what he was doing to me?"

He breathed deep and made a low sound in his throat—it was a little bit of a growl mixed with a sob. "No, but I could feel the things you were feeling. Hunger, thirst, fear… pain."

I moved to readjust myself into a better position, bracing for the pain, but when I moved, I realized it didn't hurt as much. All I felt was blissful peace as I sat on Diesel's lap. "I'm not cold anymore," I told him, as my eyes grew heavy. "And I'm not hurting as much."

My ear was pressed against his chiseled chest, right over his heart. I could feel its steady beat, lulling me to sleep. "You're welcome," he said.

It took a moment for his words to register. Was he admitting what I thought he was? I tried to lean back so I could see his face, but he tightened his arms around me, keeping me in place. "It's you! You're making me warm?" I asked in awe. He didn't answer. Instead, he slid the back of my gown open and placed his right hand directly over my broken ribs. He probably wasn't going to answer me this time either, but I had to try. "Are you healing me too?"

"It's the least I can do." His voice was filled with guilt, letting me know that doing nothing to help me had taken its toll on him as well. It wasn't the same, of course, but I think we both suffered from what Durant did.

I put my hand on his chest, trying to comfort him. "It wasn't your fault, Diesel. Whatever you're thinking is wrong."

"Shhh… Just relax and let me hold you for a while." I did as he asked, giving into the moment of safety he provided, knowing we were both damaged by what happened.

"Your hand is on my ass."

"It was cold too." He shrugged and I just knew he was smiling that mischievous smile he always used when trying to get me to do his bidding. "Too bad you're not wearing a bra. I like practicing my removal skills on you—it keeps me sharp." His stomach vibrated against my side as we both laughed at his silliness. "If I'd been thinking straight, I'd have gotten us both naked and told you skin to skin contact was the only way to warm you up."

I laughed so hard, I snorted. I realized that for the first time in weeks, I felt—normal. "I don't know what made the higher ups at the BUM zap you into my apartment that first time, but I'm glad they did."

"Me too, Sunshine." He kissed the top of my head and I snuggled in closer, enjoying his warmth.

* * *

While Stephanie slept in his arms, Diesel thought about what he knew of her time in the cellar. The BUM had sparingly relayed details of her condition, updating him as necessary. And that consideration was only after he threatened to drop all his cases—effectively resigning his commission as a marshal. There were only a handful of people who could do his job, needless to say, that got their attention. As a result, he was granted the rare privilege of speaking with the Master Seer personally.

Dayah foretold Stephanie's escape, and assured him she would make a full physical recovery. At any time, he could have circumvented their decree, violating his pledge of honor and gotten her out, but he was warned of the cost to them both. In this instance, he wasn't worried about himself, but according to Dayah, if Stephanie didn't stay and fight for her freedom, her life and the lives of others would be irrevocably changed for the worse. He was told that soon, she would be faced with a metaphorical fork in the road. If she chooses the correct path, it will lead to her redemption. He didn't understand it all, but they'd never led Diesel wrong before and he had to trust they knew better.

Steph was his friend, the rare type of person that would go to the wall for you, and he didn't deserve her forgiveness. He'd struggled daily to ignore the elder's advice and not go to her. Just thinking about that fucker torturing her had made him burn with anger. He'd felt every lick of that damn belt and wasn't sure he'd ever shake off the shame he felt as he stood by and let that asshole violate her.

His head dropped back against the chair and fell to the side as his life force was being depleted. Allowing Stephanie to absorb his healing energy had weakened him—leaving him vulnerable, but it was a small price to pay to make things right. He'd wanted to come to the hospital immediately, but until this moment, she'd been surrounded by people, and he needed private, uninterrupted time to heal her. Soon, someone would come in to check on her and he'd have to leave, but until then, he was going to enjoy having her in his arms. It would be a long time until they met again.

As if his fear of being interrupted was a self-fulfilling prophecy, the door opened. It was like that for him sometimes. He'd come to accept his crazy life. He looked up as a red-haired nurse came striding in. She frowned when she noticed the empty bed. Slightly panicked, her eyes darted to the bathroom looking for Stephanie. She let out a yelp when she found her sitting on Diesel's lap.

The nurse's reaction shocked the shit out of Bobby and Junior who'd been standing guard outside Stephanie's door for the past eight hours. With their guns drawn, they rushed into the room, pushing the nurse aside. Just as they were trained to do, they scanned the room in one glance, pinpointing the danger instantly.

"Don't fucking move!" Bobby said as he glowered at Diesel, wondering how the hell he got past them. There was no way. No fucking way he walked through that door. Both he and Junior had remained at their post since Morelli left four hours ago. No bathroom breaks. No coffee breaks. Nothing. But getting Ranger to believe him was going to be impossible. Bobby wanted to shake his head at his own stupidity. How did he even get on this assignment? Stephanie was nothing but trouble. He'd decided a long time ago that he wasn't going to be one of the men who got hurt babysitting her while she played with the big boys.

"I'm calling security," Cathy called out nervously.

"No need," Bobby said, never taking his eyes off Diesel. "Please step out of the room ma'am."

Cathy reluctantly stepped into the hall, leaving the door open. She didn't like leaving Stephanie in this situation, but the man holding her didn't seem to want to hurt her. If anything, he looked at Stephanie with such deep emotions that it almost broke Cathy's heart.

"Call Ranger," Bobby told Junior, still holding his gun on Diesel. Junior gave Bobby a look that said, 'Why do I have to call him? You do it.' But he held his gun with one hand and pulled his phone out with the other. While he dialed, Bobby's voice turned menacing as he asked the strange man, "Who the hell are you?"

The smirk on the blonde Viking's face was enough to make Bobby pull the trigger—almost. It took sheer force of will to deny his finger the pleasure. Blondie didn't seem to realize or care about the danger he was in.

Diesel wasn't worried about being shot. If it was his time to go, then it was his time to go—it was as simple as that. Some days, he even welcomed it. He sat patiently in the chair cradling Stephanie, waiting for the long overdue showdown with Ranger. Until now, they'd tolerated each other, respecting the other's strengths as top men in their fields, but when it came to Stephanie, all bets were off.

Not even five minutes went by until Ranger burst through the doorway, gun drawn, striding across the room to stand in front of Diesel, ready to kill if need be. As soon as he got the description from Junior, he knew it was Diesel. He also knew the man wouldn't hurt Stephanie, but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed that he took her out of bed and was holding her on his lap. That was something he'd wanted to do, but with her injuries, he hadn't wanted to hurt her.

"I don't know how he got in here, boss," Junior said. "He didn't come through the door, that's for damn sure." He licked his lips, fighting the urge to wipe the sweat accumulating on his brow. He was newer than most of the other Rangemen and right now he was worried Ranger was going to murder him for this blunder.

Stephanie seemed to be sleeping deeply and Ranger didn't want to startle her awake, but fury rose inside him at seeing her in the arms of another man—half naked—her ass nestled in between his thighs. He could see her underwear and Diesel's hands were inside her gown—touching her bare skin. He growled low in his throat. "Where's Morelli?"

Stephanie stirred at the loud noise but didn't wake. Instead, she burrowed deeper against Diesel, her mouth at the side of his throat as if she was kissing his neck. Ranger's chest tightened as he watched her squirm and moan low in her throat. His nostrils flared, but he made no other outward expression.

Junior looked to Bobby, hoping he'd be the one to tell him.

"Morelli left four hours ago," Bobby said.

Ranger's chest rumbled with rage. He'd grudgingly gone to the hotel across the street because Morelli had requested time alone with Stephanie, but the son of a bitch hadn't even lasted an hour before he abandoned her. Both of his men had been instructed to notify him when Morelli left the hospital. Someone was going to answer for not following orders. "Dismissed," Ranger said to his men. He had to get their eyes off Stephanie's mostly naked body. Junior and Bobby holstered their weapons and left the room, taking up their post on each side of the door. Ranger also holstered his gun and called to Cathy who was still hovering outside the open door. "Check her and make sure she's okay."

Cathy came forward, eyeing Diesel suspiciously and then she turned to Ranger.

"He's a friend of Stephanie's," Ranger said.

She nodded and checked Stephanie's pulse before listening to her heart with her stethoscope. "She's fine… just sleeping," she said while she made sure there were no problems with her IV.

"Thank you," he told her. "You can go."

Even though she was uneasy about leaving, she nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Ranger's muscles were tight, his stance wide, his face blank, but his eyes—his eyes were blazing with fury.

Diesel didn't blink. In fact, his mouth curled up at the edges resembling a smirk. A crazy thing for him to do in his present predicament. But that was Diesel—he didn't register fear like most men. He reclined back in the chair, crossing his feet in front of him, lounging with Stephanie on top of him as if he didn't have a care in the world. He continued rubbing Stephanie's back, his fingers barely ghosting over the welts and bruises, feeling every one of her ribs. He was careful not to hurt her, but it was essential he maintain physical contact with the worst of her injuries in order to heal her.

Ranger knew when he was being baited and he wasn't biting. "She shouldn't be out of bed," he said as he stepped forward with his hands out. "Give her to me."

Diesel shook his head, giving him a tiny smile that some would construe as a smirk. "I think she likes it where she is."

Ranger wanted to gut the man. But he was between a rock and a hard place. If he tried to forcibly remove Stephanie, she could get hurt, and that was the last thing he wanted. Instead, he affected his own nonchalant attitude and leaned back against Stephanie's bed. If he extended his feet a few more inches they'd be touching the tips of Diesel's boots, that's how close the two time-bombs were.

"What are you doing here?"

Diesel's mouth twitched before he spoke. "I came to see my friend."

"You should have called first."

"Stephanie likes it when I drop in." Diesel smirked.

"Aren't you going to ask how she is?"

"Don't need to," Diesel said.

What the hell? Did she tell Diesel what happened to her?

Before Ranger could ask, Diesel continued. "We had a nice long chat." He caressed Stephanie's skin and spoke in a friendly tone. "She told me lots of things."

Anger hummed through Ranger's veins, but he kept his frustration in check. "She told you what happened to her?"

Diesel leaned his head back on the chair as if he alone held the weight of the world. His eyes made their way to Ranger's face, slowly nodding once.

Ranger's chest did a funny thing—it felt like it was being flipped inside out. He knew she'd been evasive earlier—not telling the whole truth. He'd seen the memories in her eyes before she banked them. She was haunted by nightmares, but he was prepared to give her time, knowing she'd tell him when she was ready. But according to Diesel, she'd confided in him—and that shit burned. Ranger glowered at him. "What did she tell you?"

Diesel's voice became rough—angry—as he stared out the window into the pitch-black night. "Nothing I didn't already know."

Ranger stopped breathing, his body outwardly still, like a slab of granite, but inside, he was burning. Molecules of rage were vibrating furiously in all directions. He was doing his damndest to keep from blowing up. Self-control was one of the many areas where he excelled. No one ever knew how close they came to dying—because he was that good. He could appear calm, unaffected—until he didn't—but by then it was too late for the other person. Despite what was going on inside, when he spoke, his tone was careful—measured. "You knew where she was, and you didn't help her?"

Diesel leaned his head back further, looking at the ceiling, and then he squeezed his eyes closed in remorse. "Sometimes, doing nothing is the hardest thing to do."

In a flash, Ranger was beside him, holding the barrel of his gun to the side of Diesel's head as Stephanie slept, blissfully unaware of the danger. "Give me a reason not to kill you!"

"I'm hard to kill."

Ranger didn't move—he didn't blink—he was barely restraining himself.

"She understands why I didn't free her." Diesel raised his head off the chair and took a heavy breath—the gun against his temple was of no consequence to him. "Even though I don't deserve it, she forgave me."

Ranger knew Diesel had a reputation for doing odd, unexplainable things. He admitted to knowing where Stephanie had been held, but not helping her. He wanted to know why. "Stephanie has a forgiving heart, but I don't. Tell me what you know, and I might let you live."

The barrel of the gun moved slightly as Diesel shook his head and sighed. "It's up to her to tell you. But be sure you really want to know because having those images in your head will haunt you."

Ranger heard the guilt and regret in Diesel's voice and dropped the gun to his side. "She might want to forgive you for letting her suffer, but she won't be able to. She'll grow to hate you for it."

Suddenly, Diesel recalled what Dayah had said about Morelli and Ranger. He bit back his anger. Two men who proclaimed to love Stephanie but turned to other women instead of committing to her—each of them playing with her emotions as they took what they wanted from her and then made excuses why they couldn't give her what she needed. If they had been paying attention to her, she might not have been taken. In Diesel's opinion, there was plenty of blame to go around.

He lovingly looked down at the woman in his arms, wishing she was meant for him. But, as usual, fate had other ideas. In fact, this was the last time they'd be together for many years, and his heart was breaking at the loss.

Dayah had told him Stephanie's path to happiness was going to be long and hard, but she was strong of heart and mind and would eventually find her happily ever after. Knowing she was on the right path made parting easier for Diesel. He could walk away knowing he was doing the right thing. That didn't mean he wasn't still angry—because he was. He'd like nothing more than to kick Ranger's ass. He knew the man in black had stupidly denied a relationship with Stephanie and he knew exactly where he'd been when Stephanie's ordeal began. He let the rage build as he menacingly looked up at Ranger, appraising him from head to toe, contempt dripping from his voice when he spoke. "You and Morelli should be more concerned about where you were and what you were doing while she suffered."

Ranger wasn't used to anyone calling him out on his actions and he didn't like the knowing glint in Diesel's eyes. It was as if he knew he was in bed with Salina when he found out that Stephanie was missing. It left him feeling unsettled.

Diesel put his anger aside for the moment. There was one more thing he had to take care of. He knew that Stephanie would have to give a statement to the feds, but if she went through with her plan to let Durant die, she'd need legal help. Maybe it was time Ranger worked toward redeeming himself. "The feds are going to question her soon, and when they do, she's going to need a lawyer. If you care about her at all, you'll get her the best there is and stand by her."

Ranger narrowed his eyes. "What kind of trouble could she be in? She's the victim."

Diesel didn't bother answering—it wasn't his place to enlighten Ranger. He only knew that a good lawyer was the only thing keeping her from serving time in prison for what she was allowing to happen. He got up slowly from the chair, his body weakened from giving Steph his energy. He carefully carried her sleeping body over to the bed and laid her down. He covered her up, leaned in, and whispered, "You may have felt abandoned, but you were never alone. I was with you every step of the way." He cupped her jaw, running his thumb over the bruises around her eyes and cheeks, slowing when he got to her split lip. "I've given you all that I can. When you wake, you'll feel much better." He kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Until next time, Sunshine." He walked to the door and just as he was about to open it, he turned back, raising his eyebrows. "A piece of advice?"

Ranger stood over Stephanie, laying claim to what was his by placing his hand on her shoulder. He gave no response. He didn't want to hear another word that Diesel had to say.

"There is no other woman on this planet like Stephanie Plum." Diesel gave him a half smile, his tone wistful. "Make sure you can live with the choices you make. There are no do overs and sometimes our _mistakes_ haunt us for the rest of our lives."

Ranger didn't appreciate the cryptic advice, but in his line of work, emotions were counterproductive. He pushed his reaction to the background and issued a warning of his own. "Stay the hell away from her. If I see you again… I will kill you."


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

**His Fate Is Sealed **

I came awake in stages, lying as still as a stone, cautiously assessing my situation. It was something I'd perfected during my time in the cellar because so many times, I'd awaken to find Durant sitting in his chair—masturbating or just watching me. The longer I put off confrontations with him the better.

I was lying on my side, mesmerized by the brilliant sunlight streaming through the window, thinking about all the times I'd taken that sight for granted.

"What are you doing here?" From behind me, I heard Ranger speak. For a moment, I thought he was talking to me, but then I realized he was making an effort to keep his voice low; I guess to avoid disturbing me, but his intensity was alarming. I'd almost startled at his harsh tone but managed to pretend I was still asleep. Eavesdropping was the easiest way to find out what was going on.

He must have been sitting in a chair on the other side of my bed because I heard him get to his feet and take a couple steps away. My curiosity was getting the better of me and I was getting ready to turn over until I heard Joe. "I came to visit Stephanie just like every other morning."

"You left her alone last night."

"I got called into work. She wasn't alone. There's a hospital full of people and you had two men posted at the door." Joe wasn't happy being put on the defensive. I could only imagine how much this whole thing has turned his life upside down. Instead of continuing to defend his actions, he said, "The feds called me again this morning. They want to set up a time to question Stephanie."

"That won't happen until Dr. Powell and Dr. Harris agree that she's ready."

"Don't you want to know what happened to her… where she's been?" When Ranger didn't say anything, Joe continued. "I don't think they'll hold off much longer." He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "That agent has a hard on to close this case."

"He can wait."

I agreed with Ranger. The feds would have to wait—the longer the better.

"We still don't know whose clothes she was wearing and where she's been." Joe's frustration was coming through loud and clear. "And the Pine Barrens is a vast area; we could use some extra boots on the ground, but the feds think it's a waste of time going door to door. They think it'll be more efficient to just wait until Stephanie tells them where she was being held." He was quiet for a minute and then said, "They haven't been informed that she's lost a months' worth of memories."

It sounded like the feds were banking on me being able to tell them what happened and where the cellar was. If I was conveniently unable to give them that information, then they'd have nothing. That was good news for me. I listened for as long as I could, but once my bladder started screaming for relief, I knew I had to get up. As soon as I moved my arm out from under the blanket, I was immediately aware of two things. First, my body wasn't hurting as badly as yesterday, and secondly, the room grew quiet. I threw the blanket completely off and slid my leg off the bed as I tried to sit up.

"Hey… careful." Joe rushed around the bed with his hands out to steady me. "Let me help you." He placed his hands on my shoulders, helping me sit up.

I looked down at my broken hand, noting the swelling in my fingers had gone down. I twisted my waist a little, testing the soreness in my ribs and found they didn't hurt as much either. I looked over at the chair Diesel had been sitting in last night and remembered falling asleep in his arms. When I asked if he was healing me, he hadn't denied it.

Ranger came around the bed, watching me with curious eyes. "Did Diesel do anything to hurt you last night?" So, Ranger knew that Diesel had been here and if his steely gaze was any indication, he wasn't happy about it. Me… on the other hand… I was grateful that Diesel had popped in. He gave me vital information about Durant and used his talents to help me heal.

"Actually, I'm feeling better today." I said as I grabbed onto Joe's arm, using it for support as I stood. He grasped my elbow and helped me push the IV trolley to the bathroom. "I've got it from here," I said as he continued to follow me inside.

"Are you sure?" Joe smiled mischievously. "I could hold your gown for you."

I rolled my eyes and waited for him to leave before closing the door. I took care of nature's call and when I looked into the mirror, I had to muffle a shriek. I looked like a rejected groupie from an 80's rock band. I wet my hand, running it through my curls, trying to coax them down. A hair tie and my brush were lying on the shelf next to the sink. I picked up the brush and used it to smooth my hair back into a ponytail. It wasn't great, but it was better than before. When I opened the door, Joe was waiting to help me back to bed. As soon as I was settled, his questions began.

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" I wanted to roll my eyes at his single-minded pursuit. Always the cop, I guess.

I hated being evasive, neither of these men were fools. Joe might be the one asking the questions, but Ranger's dark eyes were fixed on mine, his attention focused solely on my answers. He'd done so much for me over the years and paying him back by being dishonest didn't sit well. It was on the tip of my tongue to confess. I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to me. But I couldn't push the words out. Anyway, it wasn't fair to shoulder him with my guilty conscience. We weren't in a relationship and I needed to grow up and deal with my own problems.

I kept my eyes on the blanket, rolling it between my fingers and then straightening it. When I realized what I was doing, I smoothed the blanket one last time and clasped my hands in my lap. They knew I was hiding something, Ranger more so than Joe. Obviously, I wasn't going to tell them Durant was in the cellar, shackled, and waiting to die—not until enough time had passed for me to be certain he was dead. The last thing I wanted to do was make them culpable in my crime.

Despite what I was allowing to happen to Durant, I didn't want to outright lie to two of the most important men in my life—but I would if I had to. I decided to answer Joe's questions with a couple of my own. "What do you know about my accident? Did anyone else get hurt?"

"No one else was hurt," Ranger said, as he contemplated me thoughtfully, but neither one of them chose to add anything to that statement. Instead, they waited for me to fill in the awkward silence. They were trained interrogators after all.

"Have you remembered anything else… anything at all?" Joe asked.

I opened my mouth but couldn't make the words come. They were hoping my memories had magically returned and that I'd be able to tell them exactly who did this to me. It was time for me to go on the offensive. The thought of misleading Joe was easier for me to stomach. I didn't want to think about why that was, but I knew it had something to do with the respect Ranger and I had for each other. Taking control of the 'interview,' I met Joe's eyes and asked him a direct question, careful not to lie. "You said I was gone for a month. Where was I?"

Joe silently watched me as he tried to come up with an appropriate response that wouldn't get him in trouble with my doctor or deter my recovery. I hated manipulating him, but it was his own fault. He wasn't supposed to be questioning me. Luckily for him, a hospital worker came in carrying my breakfast tray and saved him from having to answer. She placed it on the rolling table and left.

As Ranger repositioned the table closer to me, he leaned in, pinning me with his eyes and whispered low enough that Joe wouldn't hear. "I know you're hiding something." His warm breath whispered against my ear. As if he hadn't just called me out on my deceit, he placed a soft kiss on my forehead and lifted the dome covering my plate, revealing a bowl of oatmeal drizzled with applesauce. I wasn't a fan of heart smart food, but beggars can't be choosers. He noticed my reaction and his mouth tipped up at the edges, like he was thinking about smiling, but didn't want to commit. My insides warmed. I loved that smile. Who am I kidding? I loved all his smiles.

"The nurse said if you keep this down, your mother can bring you lunch. Or I could have Ella make you something. Your choice."

As much as I loved Ella's food, I had been dreaming of my mother's cooking for weeks. I slowly ate every bite of the oatmeal. Then I finished the apple juice and a carton of milk. Still hungry, I looked at the tray to make sure I'd gotten everything. Maybe there was an overlooked piece of bacon or a donut. But to my disappointment, there was nothing.

Ranger chuckled. "Would you like more to eat?" I nodded and then looked away—embarrassed that I was so hungry.

Ranger left and was back in seconds with two pudding cups, one vanilla and one chocolate. He opened them for me, and I dug in. When I was done, I put the spoon and empty cup on the table and became fixated on my hands. I brought them to my face, inspecting them. My left hand was partially covered in a cast and my right hand had a bandage across the palm. The white bandage slowly started turning red until the blood seeped through and began dripping down my forearm and onto the blankets. I wondered why Ranger and Joe weren't racing over here to help me. I looked up at them, but they were only frowning at me as if puzzled by my behavior. Didn't they see all the blood? When I looked back down at my hands, the blood was gone. I turned them over, examining them and… nothing. They had been covered only seconds before and now they were clean. What's happening to me? Suddenly, it dawned on me. I had blood on my hands because I was a murderer and I'd never be able to wash it away. I felt a stinging sensation behind my eyes and then tears started falling down my face.

"Steph, honey, please don't cry." Joe begged.

I ignored him. I couldn't talk. I couldn't explain. I was a horrible person and I wanted to be by myself. My shoulders shook as I cried harder. I turned over on my side, careful of my injuries, and curled into a ball. I burrowed my face into the pillow and brought the blanket to my ears to hide my face. I'd been at a heightened sense of survival for the last month—always on the alert for anything that could save my life and now that I was safe—I was so damn tired. All I wanted to do was disappear into sleep where I could escape the consequences of my actions and what happened to me.

Ranger pulled the blanket from over my head and adjusted it around my shoulders. "Babe, everything's going to be okay. I promise." He sounded so heartfelt and sure of himself, but he shouldn't make promises he couldn't keep. They wanted me to be the same girl I was before, but I wasn't. If they knew what kind of person I truly was, they wouldn't love me.

I didn't like being responsible for someone's death, not even Durant's. Knowing that he was starving while I'd been eating oatmeal and pudding made me a horrible person. I had to fight to keep my food down when it rolled over in my stomach. I couldn't do it. I couldn't let him die. I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to deny the image of him lying on the smelly mattress, injured and dying. "I have to go back… " I blurted out at the same time Joe spoke.

"Rex can't wait to… "

When I heard the name, Rex, my eyes popped open and I jolted straight up, forgetting about the pain I was in. I looked from one man to the other. "Rex! Where is he?" I cried. Durant told me I'd been missing a week before anyone noticed. What if Rex was dead? I didn't wait for them to answer. I frantically threw the blanket off, ready to jump out of bed and go home, even if it killed me. I had one foot on the floor when Ranger carefully lifted me in his arms, holding me against his chest for a moment before setting me back on the side of the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Morelli asked.

"Home!" I shouted. Rex was the only thing I could think of—the only thing that mattered. He had to be alive. Sitting up so quickly sent my head spinning. I fell back on the bed in defeat, tears rolling down my face.

"He's fine, Cupcake," Joe soothed as he tried to calm me down. "He's at Mary Lou's. Her boys are taking care of him."

I sagged with relief and then remembered something Durant had said. I blinked my eyes to clear the tears and looked back and forth between Ranger and Joe. I had to know if what he said was true. "How long was Rex alone before anyone found him?" Both men's faces went from concerned to blank in an instant. They were hiding something. I wanted an honest answer and I wanted it now. "Tell me!" I shouted at Joe. His body tensed and he hung his head, dejected.

"One week," Ranger said.

I put my hand over my mouth to hold back my cry. "A week?" I whispered. My poor baby was alone and hungry, afraid that I'd forgotten about him. I knew what it was like to be forgotten. I scooted away from them. When I got control of my emotions, I looked at Joe. "Is he really okay?"

Joe nodded his head, exhaling a relieved breath that he had something positive to tell me. "He was a little weak, but he still had water, thanks to the new habitat with the automatic food and water dispenser you got him for Christmas."

I used the back of my hand to wipe the tears from my swollen eyes. "He's really okay?" I asked again just so I could hear the words.

"Yeah," Joe smiled encouragingly.

I gave him the squinty eye to let him know I meant business. "I'll know if it's not Rex. If you replaced him like some goldfish… I'll know."

Joe's jaw dropped, astonished that I'd consider him capable of such treachery. "I'd never do that, Steph."

"You look me in the eye and promise MY Rex is okay!" I drew out the word because I wasn't sure I believed him.

His face turned serious. "I promise."

I was aware that my reactions were over the top, but Rex depended on me, and he almost died because I wasn't there to take care of him like I was supposed to. My body started shaking with huge wracking sobs as I completely lost it. Joe pulled his phone out, and the next thing I knew I was Face Timing with Mary Lou and Rex. "Look at him, Steph." She showed me Rex in his habitat, sitting on her coffee table, nibbling on a carrot. "He's okay, honey, I promise. The boys are being real careful with him this time. And Mikey even promised not to play crash test dummy."

I tried not to laugh, but it came out as a sob. I remembered the last time Mare hamster-sat. Her boys put Rex in their toy cars and played demolition derby, sending my poor baby scampering to the corner, waiting for Mare to come along and put him back in the safety of his home. I turned over on my side, curled into a ball with Joe's phone in my hand and watched Rex go into his can; wiggling his bottom to get comfortable.

I squeezed my eyes shut. "He. Almost. Died." I said in between sobs. I couldn't catch my breath. "He must've been so scared. I talk to him every day. He probably thinks I forgot about him."

Joe pushed the call button for the nurse while Ranger took the phone from me with one hand and used his other to smooth along my back, giving me a gentle smile. "Babe, you have to calm down."

I knew I was overreacting, but I couldn't stop crying. They probably thought I was crazy for worrying about a silly hamster, but Rex had been a constant in my life for so long. When others abandoned or hurt me, he'd been there, a silent friend I could talk to. Once the tears started, I wasn't just crying for Rex—or for what happened to me—I was crying for the women who died in the cellar. Their hopes and dreams had been thrown away by a psychopath who trapped them in glass. And I was also crying because I felt guilty for getting away when they didn't. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

In Joe's attempt to cheer me up, he'd said the one thing that obliterated all my doubts and sealed Durant's fate.

Rex.


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

**I'm So Hungry I Could Eat A Horse**

Sweat tickled my face as it traveled down to the bodice of the bulky dress I was wearing, causing it to cling to my body as if weighted in lead. My chest heaved painfully; the air so thin I couldn't breathe. "Let me out!" I screamed as I brought my hands up, desperately banging on the glass surrounding me.

I licked my lips as I panted; my throat dry and raw from screaming. Short puffs of breath fogged the glass, clouding my view of Durant as he sat in his chair, stroking himself, eyes unwaveringly locked on mine; shining with pride as his cock thickened and grew longer. A few more pumps of his hand and his face contorted in ecstasy.

I swallowed past the tightness in my throat as he walked in slow motion toward me. "Stop!" I screamed, and tried to take a step back, only to come up short when I hit the glass behind me. He smiled, baring his shining teeth, taking pleasure in my fear.

My heart slammed against the wall of my chest. Each step he took had me gasping. Suffocating. I turned from side to side, searching for a way out. Melissa's rotting corpse was to my right, gazing straight ahead. As if she felt my stare, she slowly turned. A clump of curls fell from her head, landing on the bottom of her case and her right eyeball hung from its socket—dangling back and forth.

My breath stalled, and my stomach rolled. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard to keep the vomit down. When I opened my eyes again, he was right in front of me, reaching out with his finger to touch the glass. I watched helplessly as he used his milky liquid to make one vertical line and then another. He connected the two in the middle and dipped his finger in his cupped hand, wetting it again. He made a heart next and then an S.

_H heart S. Hunter Loves Stephanie. _

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head, wishing he'd magically disappear. When the air pressure changed, I knew he'd opened my case. I shrank back hoping to get out of his reach. His hands came around my shoulders shaking me. "Nooo… " A hoarse scream escaped as I thrashed from side to side in my glass coffin.

"Wake up, Stephanie!"

I brought my hands up, digging my fingernails into anything I could grasp. He didn't let go. I tried kicking him, but before I could do any damage, he pressed his weight on me. _Get off me asshole._ I was firing on all cylinders, swinging wildly. I landed a hard punch to his face and he hissed in pain, but I was too enraged to stop. Before I could get in another hit, my arms were forced over my head—immobilizing me. I gritted my teeth and fought harder, but I was no match for him. I never had been.

"Babe, you have to wake up!"

_Ranger?_ I thought I heard his voice, but I couldn't see him.

"Come back to me, Babe."

_I want to, Ranger._ _But he's got me, and he'll never let me go. _I broke down in sobs, weak and ready to give up.

"Stephanie, you have to wake up now!" My eyes sprung open at his sharp tone. Ranger's familiar chocolate brown eyes were inches away as he leaned over me, pressing my hands above my head. Immediately, he let go and I quickly scanned the room, my heart racing as I tried to get my bearings. The smell of death lingered, and the hospital gown stuck to my body—wet with sweat.

"Where did they go?" My brows wrinkled in confusion, wondering where Durant and the women had gone.

"Where did who go?" He reached toward me, but my reflexes from the cellar clicked in and I flinched away.

A look of concern crossed his face before it was replaced with pity. "I'd never hurt you." He tenderly ran his thumb over my cheek, cradling my jaw. "You're safe now," he said softly, trying to calm me. "No one can hurt you." When he gave me a sad smile, I noticed a bright red mark on his cheek, and knew it was where I'd hit him. I couldn't talk. I couldn't breathe. Giant tears flowed down my face. "Breathe, Babe!"

I hesitantly reached out with my casted hand, my fingers stopping centimeters from where the red mark stained his smooth skin. I couldn't bring myself to touch where I hurt him. "I'm so… sorry."

"My fault." He shook his head and brushed my tears away with the pad of his thumb. "I shouldn't have tried to grab you while you were having a nightmare."

I avoided his gaze even though I felt his intense stare. I was calmer now, and the dream had receded, but it had seemed so real. I had to get his focus off me. If I didn't, he would start asking questions that I didn't want to answer. I made a move to get up and go to the bathroom. Nature was calling.

Alone in the bathroom, I sneered at my crazy mop of curls in the mirror. _"Your beautiful curls were the first thing I noticed." _ I closed my eyes and let the rage flow through me. I was physically free, but still a prisoner of his words. I pulled the hair tie out and grabbed handfuls of hair, pulling hard, fighting the urge to rip the curls out by the roots. If I had a pair of scissors, I'd cut off every last one. Tears burned trails down my face, and I drew in great gulps of air as muffled sobs escaped. I grabbed onto the sink for support while I broke down as quietly as I could.

The anger gradually faded, and I brushed the offensive curls into a ponytail, blinking back tears as my hands shook. The brush slipped from my fingers, landing in the sink with a loud clunk.

"Are you okay?" Ranger asked.

I felt his worry through the door and tried to respond, but nothing came out. I blew out an angry breath and tried again. "Yeah. I… I'll be out in a minute." The door didn't have a lock; he could burst in any second, but I knew he'd respect my privacy. I splashed cold water on my face to help make the redness go away and hoped for the best.

* * *

When Stephanie opened the door, Ranger took one look at her blotchy face and knew she'd been crying. Her eyes were haunted. It took all his mental fortitude to be strong for her. He put his blank face on, afraid if he showed her what he truly felt he'd break down in front of her. And that wouldn't do. He followed her eyes to his forearms, watching them widen when she noticed the blood dotting his arm.

"Did I do that?"

"It's nothing, Babe."

She went back into the bathroom and came out with a wet cloth. "Let me." She gently wiped the blood away and placed the cloth on the nearby table. Uncomfortable with the emotions flowing between them, she stepped over to the window, looking out at the midmorning sky. Her eyes followed a red bird, as it took off flying high over the landscape. She shivered as it disappeared among the millions of snow-covered pine trees in the Barrens. "This isn't St. Francis." She murmured but didn't turn around. "Where am I?"

"Piney Grove hospital in Hammonton Township."

"How did I end up here?"

He'd been hoping she'd tell him. According to Diesel, she was aware of a lot more than she was letting on. In the past, he was the one she turned to for help. When had that changed?

"This was the closest trauma center to the accident." His heart clenched. He couldn't keep the anguish from entering his voice. He wasn't supposed to ask, but the words came out anyway. "Were you after a skip? Is that why you ended up in the Pine Barrens?"

She shook her head. "I cleared all my cases before Vinnie shut down for Christmas."

"I need answer's Stephanie." He tried not to let his frustration show. "I know you remember more than you're saying."

She turned slightly, just enough to see his face. He'd never had trouble reading her, but right now, he wasn't able to discern a damn thing.

"Do you remember what you told me about working to fix your Karma?" she whispered hesitantly but held his eyes, letting him know his answer was important.

It was something he'd said to her a couple of times—mostly to get her to understand that he wasn't the great person she thought he was. Sometimes she looked at him as if he truly was the superhero she believed him to be, but he wasn't… not even close. He'd done a lot of shit in his life that he had to atone for. She was waiting for him to say something or do something, but he could only nod to let her know he heard her.

She turned back to the window and he had to strain to hear her next words. "Do you think a person can ever fix the bad things they do?"

His response was quick and matter of fact. "That's not something you need to worry about."

Even though she faced away from him, he was able to see her thin smile in the reflection of the window. She didn't believe him.

"I know you remember what happened to you. Diesel said you talked with him about it. He said you need a good lawyer. I need you to tell me what's going on, Stephanie."

When he didn't call her Babe, she knew he was dead serious. "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers too."

Ranger's nostrils flared. He didn't like her cryptic statement. It reminded him of something he'd have said to avoid answering. Maybe she'd learned more from him than he'd wanted her too.

She turned around and reached out to touch his already bruising cheek. "Thank you for finding me." She looked into his eyes to make sure he knew how much she meant it.

"I'll always come for you." He turned his face into her palm, letting it caress him as he stepped forward. His muscular chest was barely grazing her breasts and he had such longing in his face as he put his arms around her. "I love you, Babe."

Hope sparked in her eyes and he realized what he'd done. He'd made her believe there might be a chance for them after all.

His face went blank and he backed away. "I shouldn't have said that." Her smile fell away as if it had never been there. She looked abandoned. He had to say something to make this better. "You make me want more, even when… "

The door opened, and the moment was over. Dr. Powell came in for her morning evaluation. She listened to Stephanie's lungs, smiling and nodding as she positioned the stethoscope. When she lifted the bandages, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Your lungs sound good, much better in fact. And your wounds… I don't know what happened between last night and this morning, but you seem to be healing remarkably well."

"Does that mean I can go home today?" Stephanie couldn't keep the eagerness from her voice.

"You need another scan on your heart and lungs before I can release you."

"When_ can_ I go home?"

"You'll be with us for at least a couple more days, but if it's any consolation, your mother can bring you a home cooked meal today."

Stephanie smiled. "How many times has she asked you?"

"I don't know if I can count that high." Dr. Powell laughed as she left the room.

Ranger dialed a number on his phone and handed it to Stephanie. "Your mother wanted you to call her after you saw the doctor."

"Hi, Mom." She paused to listen and then continued. "I'm doing better, but I have to stay for a couple more days."

Ranger sat down on the bed beside Stephanie, rubbing her back while she talked to her mother. He wished she'd quit trying to be tough and confide in him, but she was stubborn, and would only ask for help as a last resort. He didn't think this time was going to be any different.

"Yeah, Mom, that sounds good." When Stephanie's throat constricted with emotion, he directed his attention back to her conversation. "Okay, bye." She took several deep breaths, fighting back tears as she handed his phone back.

"Stephanie… ," Ranger said, pausing to weigh his words carefully.

She watched him for a moment and then sighed. "We don't need to rehash the conversation we had before Christmas." She decided to let him off the hook. "I remember it clearly. I know you care about me, but… " Her voice trailed off before coming back stronger. "We're good friends. I get it. It's fine, okay?"

He leaned into her and his lips were just about to meet hers when she turned away. "You can't keep doing that, Ranger." She shook her head. "You may not respect Joe, but I need you to respect me."

Ranger pulled back, his blank face in place. He wasn't happy that she doubted his respect for her.

"In the past I haven't made the boundaries clear. That's on me." She sighed and looked down. "Joe and I… we're complicated, but I love him."

He'd suspected it… hell, he even knew it, but hearing those words from her mouth made his heart hurt. They sat in silence for a few minutes. When she finally looked up, she studied him carefully, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. "Why don't you go get some rest? You don't need to babysit me. I'll be fine."

He could use some time to get his feelings back in check and some shut eye would be useful. He hadn't had much of that in weeks. This time when he kissed her, it was on the forehead and it was bittersweet.

"I'll ask Hector to come in and sit with you. Zip needs to stay at his post outside the door."

Stephanie nodded slowly. It wasn't necessary for her to have a guard and that made her feel bad for causing Ranger to waste time and money worrying about her, but right now, she didn't have a choice. Maybe if they were a couple, she could tell him what she was letting happen to Durant... but they weren't. And that made her sadder than she cared to admit.

* * *

Hector and I had been playing cards for a while. I liked having him here. He was easy to be with. He treated me like normal and didn't ask intrusive questions. Just as he shouted, 'Gin Rummy', the door opened, and the most tantalizing smells of my life filled the room.

"Look who I brought with me!" Joe said as he walked in, followed by my mother and Grandma. As soon as I saw a brown paper bag in Joe's hands, my breath stalled in my chest and I froze. _It's only a paper bag, I told myself. It can't hurt me. Just because Durant threw my rations at me in a similar bag doesn't mean I have to freak out every time I see one._

While my mind was busy convincing me that I was okay, Hector picked up the cards and kissed my forehead. "I will be outside if you need me."

"Stay, cutie," Grandma said as she sidled up close to him. "We have plenty. And I wouldn't mind sharing my treats with you."

Hector gave me a sly smile and stepped close to Grandma, looking her up and down. He wasn't one to shy away, especially from a harmless old lady. "What you got for me, Mamí?"

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, mouth opening and closing. I guess, even her bravado only went so far. He chuckled and gave me a wink as he made his way out the door.

"Whew, that one is intense," Grandma turned to stare at Hector's ass as he walked away. Once the door closed, she shook her head and got busy helping my mother lay the food out on the small table. I couldn't help recalling Durant's threats to my family as I watched her move around, healthy and carefree in her purple velour tracksuit and white high-top chucks. _It was so easy slipping inside your family's homes. Do what I want, and they won't get hurt. _I'd begged him not to hurt my family, and I lived in fear that I'd make him angry enough that he'd kill them anyway. Tears gathered in my eyes and I started breathing hard. I could have lost them all and it would have been my fault.

"What's with the sad face?" Grandma asked.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, unchecked. Joe pulled me into his arms, gently rubbing my back. "Shh, It's okay." I hung onto him, afraid to break the connection. When the tears finally stopped, he wiped my face with a tissue. "Better?" he asked, hopefully. I gave him a tired smile and nodded my head.

I was still wrapped in Joe's arms when Grandma slid behind him. Suddenly, he clutched me tighter as Grandma came around him and sat on the bed, clucking her dentures, murmuring something about how arthritis makes it hard to get a good grip. Joe's terrified eyes met mine, and I couldn't help but laugh. If I wasn't mistaken, she'd pinched his ass. He narrowed his eyes, promising payback for laughing.

"You're being a little heavy handed with the eyeshadow," Grandma said as she inspected my face, boldly reaching out, patting my cheek, and running her finger along the mark on my neck. Her eyes narrowed. "Tell me who did this to you. Me and my crew will make mincemeat out of the punk."

At Grandma's age, she thought the rules didn't apply to her anymore. In fact, she lived to break them. Even though no one was supposed to question me about my missing memories, that didn't mean they weren't all curious. Mom had been busy setting food out but stopped to listen. When I didn't say anything, she took the thermos of soup and poured it into a bowl. "We're just glad you're alright," my mother said as she put the bowl on my rolling table and offered one to Joe. I smiled when he happily took it. That was one of the things Joe and I had in common. We rarely turned down food.

As if it was a normal family dinner and we were sitting around my mother's dining table, she kept up a constant chatter about all the gossip from the neighborhood. "That sock puppet company, who was going to buy the old Button Factory building, decided to purchase something further down the river in Pennsylvania." Mom shook her head and continued. "It's hard to believe your cousin Maureen has been out of work for over a year."

"Yeah," Grandma said. "Maureen thought she'd be making buttons until she died. Who knew the Button Factory would go out of business?"

"Maureen was hoping to get hired on at the new company," Mom said, "but there's no way she can drive an hour to get to work." She made a confused face. "It's just as well. The company probably won't make it anyway. Who would want to buy a sock puppet for their cell phone?"

Grandma rolled her eyes. "It's called a pop socket, Helen." She pulled out her phone, showing us the round plastic circle attached to the back. "It's a handle for your phone." Joe chuckled when he saw Grandma had chosen one with a picture of a half-naked man in a thong.

Mom huffed and shook her head but finished laying out the food while I tried to follow along as she moved to other topics of gossip. I knew they were doing it for my benefit, trying to make things seem normal, but nothing was normal anymore, and I wasn't sure if it ever would be again.

Mom pushed the rolling table up to my chest. "Eat all you want, and you can have more."

She was a great mom, but sometimes she got her priorities mixed up. Granted, I wasn't an easy kid to raise—head strong—and always getting into mischief. I looked at Joe—case in point. That garage incident alone probably put several grey hairs on her head. As much as I tried to be good, it didn't come naturally, but right now, there was nothing I wanted more than for her to bundle me up and put me at her kitchen table. She'd make all my favorites and I'd know I was home—that I was loved.

The aroma coming from the homemade chicken noodle soup made my stomach growl. With my good arm, I started cramming spoonful after spoonful into my mouth. "Slow down, Stephanie," Mom warned. I couldn't have stopped if my life depended on it. I ate everything before me, even though my stomach was so full it hurt. She got up and refilled my bowl. This time I ate a little slower.

Mom put the rest of the food away, but before she did, I managed to slip a baggie of chocolate chip cookies under my blanket. I could have left them on the table. No one would have taken them from me, but a little voice whispered, reminding me I didn't know when my next meal would be. I couldn't take the chance I'd go hungry again.

When Mom and Grandma opened the door to leave, they ran into a woman dressed in a dark pant suit. She had shoulder length golden brown hair and was pretty in a girl next door kind of way. I didn't have a good view of the man behind her, but I could tell he was larger than her. I assumed they must be the FBI agents who wanted to question me.

Joe stiffened and quickly got off the bed. "You're not supposed to be here."

Despite his biting words, the woman smiled warmly at me as she stepped inside. "Hello, Ms. Plum, is this a good time to ask you a few questions?"

As soon as she moved, I could see the man behind her. My heart sputtered. He was the very last person I expected to see in my hospital room.

His eyes lit up as he smirked and ran his gaze up and down my body, taking perverse pleasure in my beaten condition. "You're looking well."


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

**Mum's the Word**

My mouth hung open as I stared straight into the despicable eyes of Barry Hobbs. To say I was surprised to see him in my hospital room would have been an understatement. Barry and Dickie had been Sigma Chi fraternity brothers at Princeton. I met them at a house party my senior year in college. If I'd known how it would all turn out, I wouldn't have let my best friend Micki drag me out that night. I would have stayed back at our apartment, saving myself a world of heartache.

Since Micki and I went to Douglass College, we didn't know many people at the Princeton party. Essentially, I was fresh meat and Barry zeroed in on me as soon as I walked through the door. He was one of the hottest guys at the party and at first I was flattered that he asked me to dance, but after talking with him for a few minutes I realized there was something about him that put me off. When I refused his offer to dance, he got angry and tried to make me jealous by dancing with other girls. No matter where I was in the room, he had his creepy eyes on me.

It was a lame party in a house full of preppy boys with trust funds and inflated egos. I was about to call it a night when Dickie walked in and I'm ashamed to say, I was instantly attracted. He was the most gorgeous man in the room, and he wanted to dance with _me_. After that night, I was hooked.

At the time, I didn't know how deep Barry's jealousy of Dickie ran. He was always trying to get me alone, taking every opportunity to touch me, lingering a little too long, and his eyes were a little too intense. He went so far as to tell me I could do better than Dickie. It wasn't until after I married Dickie that I found out Barry had been encouraging him to screw around on me all along. I never had any proof, but I always suspected he was the one who called my office at E.E. Martin and left the urgent message about water pouring from the spigot in my front yard. It was the reason I left work early that day and came home to find Dickie and Joyce doing the nasty on our dining room table. Barry had wanted me to catch Dickie in the act. He was hoping I'd divorce Dickie and use his shoulder to cry on while I grieved the loss of my marriage. Barry played his hand perfectly. At first, he was thoughtful and comforting as he pretended to be a good friend, but it didn't take long for him to get impatient and make a move. Just like I did with Dickie, I threw him out of my life and never looked back.

Hector and Zip were still on guard outside my door. While Barry glared at me, Hector shouldered his way past him and into my room, immediately coming to my side. He turned around, giving Barry a look that had him thinking twice about coming any further. Hector pulled out his phone and sent a text. I didn't have to guess to whom.

"Stay with her," Joe said to Hector as he backed Barry and the female agent out of my room and closed the door.

I thought back to the last news I'd heard about Barry. Rumors were flying that his uncle used his connections to get him a job with the FBI, but it never occurred to me that he might be working on my case. I can just imagine how hard he searched for me. After the things I said to him back then, it was more likely he'd be the first one with a shovel to bury me.

The tight feeling in my stomach was back. This was a complication I didn't need.

I knew Joe would try to keep them away, but I wasn't sure how successful he'd be. I mean… Barry was with the FBI for crying out loud. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. Any second, I expected him to barge in and start demanding I tell him everything. The longer the door stayed closed, the antsier I became. Half an hour later, Ranger walked in—alone. He came to stand next to Hector. They spoke quietly for a moment and then Ranger looked over at me. "Are they gone?" I asked.

"No." He came closer, reaching for my hand. "But you don't have to speak with them."

My stomach rebelled at the thought of telling Barry all the things Durant had done to me. He'd find some way to turn my words around and make everything my fault. But I was going to have to tell the feds something because they weren't going away. "It's okay," I told Ranger. "I'd rather get it over with."

"At least wait for your lawyer to get here," Ranger urged.

Before I could respond, the door opened, and Dr. Powell walked in, followed by Brandon, the male nurse who'd been so kind to me. They stood off to the side in an advisory capacity while Barry and the female agent filed in and took up residence at the foot of my bed. Joe was the last one through the door. He came to stand on my left, frowning when he noticed Ranger on the other side of the bed, fingers entwined with mine.

I locked eyes with Barry, in a standoff of sorts. While he was perusing me, I did the same to him. I did my best to hide my reactions, but it irked me that he wasn't pooch bellied and balding. As much as it pained me to admit, he still looked good.

"I'd like to remind you to use caution." Dr. Powell said to Barry and the lady agent. "Stephanie has been through quite an ordeal and I won't have her upset."

"Yes, doctor," the blonde woman said, but Barry gave no indication he even heard Dr. Powell's warning.

He plastered an insincere smile on his face as he stared down his nose at me, eyes twinkling with delight at my bruised and battered condition. "Playing the part of a victim never gets old, does it, Stephanie?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes._ What an arrogant ass. _

Ranger and Joe pulled their hands out of mine and stood to their full height, not at all happy about the way Barry was speaking to me. I felt at a disadvantage since I was lying down, so I scooted up in the bed before crossing my arms over my chest in a defensive posture. Obviously, Barry hadn't come here expecting to play nice and after dealing with the likes of Durant for the last few weeks, I had no patience left for anyone who didn't deserve it. "I see your necks gotten even thicker," I said, giving him an innocent smile. "But I guess it has to be to support your inflated ego."

Hector chuckled, but kept his fists clenched at his side, ready to take matters into his own hands if it became necessary to defend me.

Barry was almost choking on his rage. More than anything, he hated being laughed at. His eyes wandered from one side of my bed to the other, noting Ranger and Joe's hostile stance before settling back on me, smirking. "Still can't keep those legs closed, can you?"

I had expected him to say something along those lines, so I wasn't surprised, but that wasn't the case with the rest of the men in my room. The testosterone was thick; it filled the space and it wouldn't take much for this powder keg to ignite. I didn't take my eyes off Barry, but I could feel the fury radiating off Ranger as he took a step toward him. "Watch your mouth," Ranger growled, deep and dangerous.

"Careful, soldier boy. Assaulting a federal agent is a felony." Barry was almost daring Ranger to strike him. Knowing Barry, he was probably salivating at the thought of arresting my friends.

"One more inappropriate comment like that and I'll have you removed," Dr. Powell addressed Barry, but he didn't spare her a glance. His attention was focused on me and only me.

Joe turned to me and asked, "What's going on, Stephanie? Do you know him?"

"Barry is a friend of Dickie's," I said without taking my eyes off Barry.

Barry flipped his hand back and forth between Joe and Ranger. "These two look ready to tear me apart." He cocked his head and quirked an eyebrow. "You always did like men fighting over you."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Barry." I sighed and picked a piece of lint off my gown. "It's been years. Get over it."

"You think I'm jealous?" He laughed, but it sounded hollow and I was pretty sure no one was buying his protests. "Over these two?" He was practically vibrating with rage as he gestured to Ranger and Joe again. "Not likely."

I wanted him gone, without my friends getting in trouble for assaulting a Federal officer, and the fastest way to make that happen was to force Barry to lose his temper in front of Dr. Powell. It wouldn't take much prodding on my part. Barry's ego was the size of Texas. A few strategic comments would be all I needed. "So… You're a big deal FBI agent now?" I taunted. "That's a pretty cushy job for a frat boy who almost flunked out of college. I guess having an uncle at the bureau comes in handy." His eyes narrowed and I knew he wanted to deny it, but what could he say? It was the truth.

While he fumed and thought of some witty comeback, the female agent came around my bed with her hand out to me and a wide smile on her face. As we shook hands, I got the feeling she was a little in awe that I'd had the guts to say that to his face. It didn't take a rocket scientist to surmise that she was not a fan of Barry's. "I'm Assistant Special Agent Piper Kinkade, and it seems you already know my partner." She motioned to Barry after schooling her features. "Would it be okay if I called you Stephanie?" she asked. I nodded as I took a closer look at her. I guessed her to be around my age, with what I assumed was the tolerance of a saint to partner with Barry. "We'd like to ask you a few questions." She looked around the room, taking note of all the people who were here to support me.

"Alone," Barry added his two cents and then crossed his arms over his chest waiting for everyone to scurry away, as if he was the emperor and this was his kingdom. I have to say I enjoyed the way his face turned red when no one moved. How stupid did he have to be to think my friends would leave me alone with two federal agents. "I believe I asked for privacy." He tried to instill authority in his tone as he made his demand again, but it came across as sullen and ineffective.

Ranger placed his hand over mine and leaned in close so he could whisper in my ear. "I think you should wait for the lawyer to get here before you answer their questions."

I knew Ranger was trying to help but having a lawyer present wasn't going to make any difference. I had no intention of telling them anything of importance. Not today anyway. I would be as truthful as possible, and when I couldn't, I would just phrase my response in the form of a question. It would make me appear cooperative and yet give them no answers. I figured I could use my head injury to my advantage. It wasn't like they could prove my memory loss was fake. After all, I had a neurologist ready to state the unpredictability of my recollection. I just needed to appear confused yet helpful.

Choosing to ignore Barry, I gave Agent Kinkade my attention. "Why is the FBI questioning me about my car accident? Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?"

"You aren't in any trouble." Agent Kinkade smiled reassuringly. "But I'd like for you to tell me everything you can remember about the accident."

"I'm missing a month of my life, so I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'll try to remember everything I can." I looked down at Ranger's hand still covering mine, gaining the courage I needed to get through this interview. Raising my eyes to Agent Kinkade, I drew a deep breath. "Ranger said I was the only one hurt in the accident, and that I was found in the Pine Barrens. Did I damage government property in the accident? Is that why you're here?"

"The only property that was damaged was the green Chevy Truck you were driving," she said. "Can you tell me who owns the truck?"

I made sure to crinkle my brow as if thinking hard. "I don't remember asking anyone to borrow a truck." That was technically true. I didn't _ask _to borrow Durant's truck. "But I keep getting flashes of trees—lots and lots of trees—and fire. I guess that makes sense since I was found in the Pine Barrens, but I don't know why there would have been a fire… unless." I let my eyes widen. "Did another one of my cars explode?"

"I'm not allowed to fill in the missing blanks of your memory. Just do your best to answer our questions and we'll get out of your hair as soon as we can. Do you remember seeing a nearby home or some other type of dwelling?"

"No." I made sure to maintain eye contact as I slowly shook my head in defeat. "I'm sorry."

Agent Kinkade was getting ready to ask me another question when Barry chimed in, making no attempt to hide his scorn. "You are aware that it's a crime to lie to a federal agent."

"Thank you, Barry." I smiled sarcastically. "But you're a compulsive liar, not me."

"Do you remember calling Rangeman for help?" Agent Kinkade tried to steer the interview back on track.

Of course, I remembered calling for help, but I couldn't tell them that. Instead, I closed my eyes pretending to think hard. I let my eyes pop wide open as if remembering an important detail. "Hal! I talked to Hal." I turned to face Ranger. "And I remember talking to you."

Excited, now that we seemed to be getting somewhere, Agent Kinkade asked, "Whose phone were you using?"

There was no way I was giving them Durant's name… not yet anyway. But I had to say something. "Wasn't I using my own phone?" My eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

Again, instead of answering my question, she asked another. "After you crashed into the tree, what did you do?" That was news to me. The accident had happened so fast I wasn't sure what I'd crashed into.

"I crashed into a tree?" I asked as I glanced at the others in the room, hoping someone would fill me in.

Ignoring my question, Agent Kinkade's eyes darted to Dr. Powell as if she wasn't sure how to phrase her question without getting into trouble. "Do you know how you got your injuries?"

Being reminded about the many ways Durant had hurt me caused a heavy weight to settle on my chest and I started breathing harder. But now was not the time to let myself feel any of that. I had to keep a cool head. "Weren't they caused by the accident?" I innocently asked.

"Some of your injuries were from the accident, but not all." She gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Well." I shrugged and sat up a little straighter as if preparing for her to enlighten me. "What else happened to me?"

She glanced at Dr. Powell again. "I can't get into that, Stephanie. I'm walking a fine line with your doctor as it is."

It looked like Barry was done sitting on the sideline. "Your friends seem to be under the impression you were being stalked," he chimed in, obviously not worried about my doctor's reaction. "They claim you were kidnapped." He waved his hand up and down my body, motioning to my obvious injuries. "But maybe you just went off with a new man and things got a little out of hand in the bedroom." He shrugged his shoulders. "It happens."

"Watch your mouth!" Ranger leaned forward, fury rolling off him in waves. Barry's eyes bulged and he drew back out of Ranger's reach. When he realized his actions made him appear cowardly, he blustered.

"The pendejo (asshole) is not worth it," Hector sneered at Barry as he held his hand up to try to block Ranger from lunging. "Estefania can take care of herself."

"Go ahead," Barry said. "Lay your hands on me. I dare you!" He straightened to his full height and adjusted his tie, feeling secure as he hid behind the protection of his badge. "I'll have your ass in jail so fast your head will spin."

The atmosphere in the room was highly charged. Joe, Ranger, and Hector… three powerful men with guns were ready to defend me if need be. I was afraid to take my eyes off Ranger. If Hector hadn't stopped him, Barry would be lying on the floor and Ranger would be on his way to jail. And Joe wasn't handling his anger much better.

"That's enough, Agent." Dr. Powell's stern voice reverberated throughout the room. "You're out of line. I will personally be filing a complaint with your supervisor."

Barry lifted his hands and pasted an insincere smile on his face. "Sorry doctor. Won't happen again."

I'd like to wipe the smug smile off his face by telling him that I'd been abducted by a serial killer and I could lead them to his lair where the bodies of eight women were waiting to be found, but it was too soon for that. I wasn't ready. I wanted this interview to be over, so I blinked my eyes as if they were getting too heavy to keep open and then I sighed. It wasn't a stretch of my acting skills because I really was tired. Everyone else immediately noticed and I could see that they felt bad for keeping me awake, but Barry didn't appear to be moved… at all.

Agent Kinkade gave Barry an incredulous look that was laced with anger and then turned back to me. She gestured toward Hector. "Mr. Sanchez has stated that you were being stalked before your… ah… accident."

"I thought someone was coming into my apartment and moving my things around, but I wasn't sure." I paused. "But what does that have to do with my accident? Do you think whoever was in my apartment caused me to wreck?"

Barry stepped closer to the side of my bed, looming over me as he edged Agent Kinkade out of the way. Even though I was sitting up in bed, I still had to look up to meet his eyes and I hated that. He was giving me a smile similar to the one Joyce Barnhardt would give me right before she'd spit in my lunch. "I'll ask the questions… not you."

His smug tone pissed me off, but I'd spent twenty-nine days with a madman, and I wasn't willing to let Barry intimidate me. "If you expect anything from me, you'll answer whatever questions I ask."

His mouth snapped shut and I noticed an irritated tick in his right eye as he glared at me.

"Stephanie." Agent Kinkade rubbed her forehead as she tried to find a way to salvage the deteriorating interview. "Can you tell me why you were wearing men's clothing when you were found?"

Being reminded of Durant's penis touching my cheek as I took his clothes off had me struggling to breathe. My mouth started watering and there was an uncomfortable feeling radiating down my chest to my stomach. I pretended confusion. "I was wearing someone else's clothes?" I asked.

Agent Kinkade remained quiet; a common interrogation tactic designed to make a person fill in the uncomfortable silence with a confession. But I'd learned from the master how to tolerate silence.

Joe sensed my unease and leaned over to kiss my forehead. "Are you okay?" He glanced again at my hand tucked into Ranger's.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Can I get some water?" My voice was starting to shake. I needed something to settle my stomach and to buy a moment to get myself under control.

While Joe refilled my cup at the sink, Barry took the opportunity to step into Joe's vacated spot. I could feel the impatience emanating from him. "Where have you been for the past month? If you were abducted, what did this person look like?" he demanded as he started hitting me with rapid fire questions. "Where were you being held? Can you even tell us how long you were driving before you wrecked?"

My stomach lurched. "I don't know." I gritted my teeth, barely holding back the acidic taste in my mouth.

"Tell us how you really got those marks on your back." He spat. "A little S&M gone wrong?"

My stomach turned over with a sour feeling at the same time complaints erupted from everyone in the room including Dr. Powell and Agent Kinkade. "I'm not feeling well," I moaned and rubbed my chest as I concentrated on taking small breaths.

"This interview is over." Dr. Powell stepped forward and began urging everyone out.

Barry snapped his fingers in my face. "Focus!"

Ranger placed his hand on my shoulder for support. "Don't say another word, Babe."

I could feel my skin getting wet with sweat and the unpleasant feeling in my stomach was getting worse. I could taste the vomit filling my mouth. I barely had time to lean over the side of the bed before everything came up.

"Shit, that's disgusting!" Barry took in a sharp breath and jumped back, giving me a dirty look as my mother's homemade chicken noodle soup spilled down his pant leg, landing on his shiny wing tips. With pinched lips, he gave me a condemning stare before storming out of the room.

Unfortunately for me, I wasn't done. I continued dry heaving while Ranger held my hair out of the way and gently stroked my back. Joe grabbed the plastic basin and placed it under my chin, while Brandon went to the bathroom for a wet cloth. When my stomach finally stopped its painful contractions, Ranger tried to gather me close to him. More than anything, I wanted to take the comfort he offered, but I couldn't let him continue pulling me in and pushing me away at the same time.

Hector sensed my dilemma and sat down on the side of my bed, holding his arms out. I leaned into him and quietly cried against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie." Agent Kinkade laid her card on the table. "If there's anything you remember, call me… day or night."

Ranger and Joe stayed for a little while after the agents left, but it wasn't long until they were both called away on business matters. Before Ranger left, he asked Hector to step into the hall with him. They both thought I was asleep and didn't bother closing the door all the way.

"Hobbs came at her pretty hard, and that was just his warm up. I've seen his type before," Ranger said. "He's a classic narcissist."

"That pendejo (asshole) is not fit to clean her shoes!" Hector snarled.

"Diesel paid her a visit last night," Ranger said. "He admitted knowing what happened to her."

I could hear the struggle in Ranger's voice as he tried to maintain control of his emotions. My heart ached. Maybe if we were together, I could confide in him about Durant and the cellar, but he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in a relationship with me, and I couldn't keep expecting him to solve my problems. I'm the reason he killed Abruzzi. The reason he has a black mark on his karma. But Durant was _my_ karmic debt and I wouldn't let Ranger or anyone else pay for it.

"He also warned that she could be in trouble. He advised me to get her an attorney."

"Why would she need a lawyer, she is the victim?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Ranger said.

I wasn't shocked that Diesel was watching out for me. I probably did need a lawyer since I was acting as Durant's judge, jury, and executioner. I was trying my best to convince myself I was getting justice for me and the women, but I wasn't certain I was going to be able to live with myself if I went through with it.

* * *

My stomach felt better this morning. I was able to eat breakfast and had just finished lunch when Lester walked in. He had his arms behind his back and a big grin plastered on his face. A zing of happiness went through me. Seeing Lester always made me feel better.

"I brought your favorite." He taunted me with a sing song voice and pulled his hands from behind his back as if he was performing a magic trick.

I was smiling as I waited for whatever he'd brought me, but as soon as I saw the packaging, my eyes widened in horror and my breath caught in my throat. He was waving two cartons of Chunky Monkey ice cream in my direction. Without thinking, I knocked the cartons out of his hand and practically leaped off the bed.

"What!" Lester's eyes widened as the ice cream tumbled to the ground.

The sudden motion made me dizzy. I didn't even register the pain when the IV was ripped from my arm. My only goal was to hide from _him_. I crawled under the bed, wedging my body between the wheels and the wall and curled into a ball. "Good morning Jenny, good morning Sharon, good morning Andrea, good morning… ," I rocked back and forth as I chanted over and over in a whisper.

"Stephanie?" I heard a voice calling to me in a soothing tone, from far away. "I'm sorry I scared you. It's okay, please calm down."

His feet were coming closer, ever closer as I shimmied as far away as possible. They stopped only inches from my head. I could see his knees start to bend and I held myself still, barely breathing as my heart beat a thunderous rhythm in my chest. Any second, he was going to pull me up by my hair and drag me to the pole. Then the belt would come out.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

_Liar. All you do is hurt me. _

"I'm sorry. I thought Chunky Monkey was your favorite."

I let out a high-pitched whine. "No… no… no… This isn't real. You're dead." I rocked back and forth, hugging myself. I could barely hear myself think with all the voices screaming at me. They were now coming at me from all sides. Durant. The women. Others.

"What's going on in here?"

"I don't know what happened; I brought her ice cream, then all the sudden she just jumped out of bed and hid down there."

"Step aside. I need to get closer to my patient." When his feet didn't move away, she got a little louder. "Sir, you'll have to wait outside."

I watched as the feet retreated and I started to breathe easier, then I felt a sting in my hip and nothing more.


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

**You've Made Yourself Crystal Clear**

Ranger's heart ached at the sight of Stephanie resting peacefully for a change. As soon as he was told she'd had a panic attack, he raced to the hospital, but no one had been able to explain what had caused her to hide under the bed, cowering. He had to touch her and be with her in whatever way he could. He slid onto the bed beside her, gently tucking her slender body against his, offering her the only thing he could—his love and strength. He'd enjoy his time alone with her because the second she woke she'd push him away just as she had earlier.

Several hours later, a soft knock sounded on the door. Ranger carefully dislodged his arm from under Stephanie's head and slid off the bed. As he made his way to the door, he glanced back to see if he'd disturbed her. She was still sleeping soundly. He quietly opened the door and as soon as he saw it was Lester, he pulled him into the room by his shirt and pushed him against the wall, his hand around the man's throat, toes barely touching the floor. "What did you do to her?" he hissed.

Since Ranger's back was to Stephanie, he didn't notice when her eyes popped open. He was too focused on Lester, who was struggling to say something, but there was no way he could speak with Ranger's hand squeezing his throat. Ranger had told her once that she'd never seen him angry and he'd been right. Angry Ranger was scaring the hell out of her.

"Ranger, stop!"

Her voice had an instant calming effect on him. It gave him time to really look at Lester. He saw the guilt and regret on his face and let him go.

"I don't know what happened," Lester said as soon as he got his breath back. "I just wanted to surprise her with her favorite ice cream. I thought she'd be happy. As soon as she saw me, she jumped out of the bed so fast I couldn't stop her." Lester glanced over at Stephanie, noticing the tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry, Les." Her voice was so tiny, they could barely hear her.

Ranger came over to her side and kissed her forehead. "You did nothing to be sorry for, Babe." He smoothed her hair. "Get some rest." He turned back to Lester and pointed to the door. "Outside." Once they were in the hall, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me what happened."

"I came in like usual, but this time I brought a happy surprise, or at least I thought it was going to make her happy." He was running his fingers through his spiked hair as he paced. "She knocked the cartons of ice cream out of my hand and freaked the fuck out. Then she crawled under the bed and started chanting good morning to somebody over and over… or at least that's what it sounded like. I pushed the button for the nurse, and she tried to get her to calm down, but Steph just curled into herself, rocking back and forth. She finally had to sedate her." Lester blew out a breath. "I asked the nurse what was happening to her and she said Stephanie was having a panic attack."

"Panic attacks involve a trigger," Ranger said. "You had to have done something to set her off."

"Maybe I just scared her." Lester raised his hands in helpless defeat. "I don't know, man."

Ranger accepted his explanation, even though it didn't make sense. He agreed with Lester. Ice cream should have made her happy, but it didn't. Why? After he regained control of his emotions, Ranger went back inside, and Lester followed. Lester gave Stephanie a sad smile, but he stayed several feet away. He was afraid he'd do something to set her off again and that broke his heart.

Stephanie's face was clouded with misery. Lester was her friend and now he was afraid to be around her. "I'm sorry," she said as she reached for him. He reluctantly went to her, sitting on the side of her bed and pulling her into his embrace. "It was all my fault," she said as she cried into his shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong."

After he held her for several minutes, he kissed her cheek and pulled back, studying her. "Dr. Powell said you had a panic attack."

She wasn't sure what had happened to her, but she hoped to never experience it again. Hallucinating in the cellar was one thing, but to do it… now? Her bottom lip trembled as tears flowed harder.

Lester frowned as he cupped his hand over his mouth and breathed. "Was it my breath?" Then he lifted his arm and sniffed. "Did my deodorant fail?" He shook his head and sighed. "I've had this problem before… women running from me for no reason. I'm starting to get a complex."

Stephanie's mouth slowly widened into a big smile and then she began to laugh. Women didn't run from Lester, just the opposite in fact, and he knew it. He had this disarming way about him that drew women to him, and she was no exception. In a lot of ways, they were alike. They both enjoyed a good laugh and tried not to take life too seriously. This right here was what she needed. He was just being himself and she'd bet he had no idea how much he meant to her. A second ago, she'd been feeling borderline insane and now she was laughing with a friend as if everything was normal. It was one of the many reasons she enjoyed spending time with him. He had a way of making people feel better.

Ranger had been standing back, watching their interaction. He wasn't jealous, but he wasn't pleased with Lester's familiarity. He wished he could make her laugh right now, but all he seemed to be able to do is make her sad.

"At least now you don't have to talk to the FBI," Lester said. "Not today, anyway."

She arched one eyebrow in question.

"Your doctor denied the agents another interview. She thinks yesterday's questioning was too much for you and contributed to the panic attack."

She grabbed the deck of cards from the bedside table and handed them to Lester. She didn't want to talk anymore, and hoped he'd get the hint. "Deal." She scooted over in the bed so he could have more room.

His face lit up as he got comfortable. "You feelin lucky, Beautiful?"

She grabbed a gummy bear off the rolling table and threw it at him. He ducked and it sailed by his head, narrowly missing Ranger. Stephanie's eyes got big.

"Huh oh. You've done it now, Beautiful." He looked over his shoulder at Ranger as he continued to deal the cards. "You want in, cousin?"

Ranger gave a small laugh and shook his head. He watched them play cards for a few minutes and then his phone beeped with an incoming text. He checked his phone and walked to the other side of Stephanie's bed. "I have to take off." He kissed her on the forehead and gave Lester a warning look. No one needed _that _translated.

As soon as the door closed behind Ranger, Hector breezed in. Lester looked up, motioning him over. "Hermano, we're playing Texas Hold'em. You want in?" Hector nodded and placed a three-pound container of M&M's on the rolling table and then pulled up a chair. "Now, that's what I'm talking about." Lester rubbed his hands together as he eyed the tub of candy. "I'm going to win so many M&M's from you both that I'll probably blow up like that girl on Willy Wonka. The Oompa Loompas will have to roll me out of here."

Hector and Stephanie gave each other a horrified yet relieved look. Usually, Lester tried to talk them into playing strip poker. It never worked, but he always gave it his best shot. As they played, Stephanie decided to ask a question that had been nagging at her. "Why do I have a memory of you carrying me in your arms while running?" she asked Lester.

Lester ate a handful of M&M's and then pushed five forward, placing his bet. "Hector and I were the lucky ones to stumble across you first." He shrugged like it was no big deal.

"I'm lucky you came." She bit her lip to keep from crying and glanced between them. "Thank you."

Lester gave her a flirty wink. "When Wonder Woman calls for assistance, only the best men will do."

By the time Ranger returned, Stephanie was getting hungry for more than the occasional M&M. And if she wasn't mistaken, she smelled Ella's cooking coming from the insulated bag he carried.

"Damn, this was my best hand yet," Lester said as Hector started collecting the cards. He bounced his eyebrows up and down and his dimples deepened as he leaned in to whisper. "I'll be outside your door all night, Beautiful. I could come in later and rub your—"

Ranger gripped Lester by the scruff of his neck. Lester's eyes widened in exaggerated horror. Stephanie turned to Hector, biting her lip to keep from laughing. The corner of Ranger's mouth was curved at the edges, enjoying himself while giving Lester a little payback for kissing his woman earlier.

After Ranger released him, Lester straightened his collar and rolled his neck. "Why am I always getting manhandled?" he asked Stephanie. She put her hand over her mouth, hiding her giggle. "It's because I'm so pretty… right?" He flipped his imaginary hair over his shoulder and planted a quick kiss on Stephanie's lips before grabbing a handful of his winnings, popping several into his mouth.

Ranger made a growling sound low in his throat. Lester was pushing his luck.

"What?" Lester slid off the bed, shrugging innocently. "I could have suggested we play for articles of clothing instead of M&M's, but I was being a gentleman." On that note, he strutted out of the room humming happily.

Hector laughed before he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "I will be at the hotel if you need me tonight."

Ranger could hear her stomach growling from across the room as he placed their dinner on the small table by the window. Her appetite was one of the many things he found endearing about her. He was aware of the power he had over her, but when Ella's cooking was placed in front of her, she had tunnel vision until it was all gone. His ego took the hit every time.

"Ella sent your favorite." His mouth curled up at the edges as he thought about smiling. If he smiled each time he thought of her, he'd be smiling entirely too much.

He helped her get seated at the small table before taking the lid off her plate. She smiled when she saw her favorite, fettuccine alfredo and garlic bread. Her eyes traveled across the table, watching as he took the lid off his plate. When she saw the grilled chicken on a bed of brown rice and _asparagus_, her smile disappeared, replaced with a frown and a full body shiver. He tried not to laugh at her reaction to his healthy meal. But when she pushed away from the table, he became concerned. He put his fork down. "What's wrong, Babe?"

One look at the asparagus had sent Stephanie spiraling back to the cellar, reliving the elegant meal Durant brought when he dressed her up in the fancy dress for their date. Her appetite vanished. She tried telling herself it was just food, but it was causing such a visceral reaction she wasn't sure she could sit here while he ate.

"Nothing." She shook her head and made a pained face, not wanting to go into detail as to why his meal disturbed her. "I just can't stand the smell of the asparagus."

Since when? Ranger had eaten this exact meal many times in front of her. He waited for her to explain further, but when she got up and started walking away, he knew she wasn't going to add more. He tenderly touched her elbow, afraid to make her even more skittish. "Let me get rid of it." He quickly gathered the offending vegetables, placed them in a napkin, and threw them in the garbage. "Is that better?"

She avoided looking directly at him but agreed to sit back down. They ate in silence. It was a little awkward considering they hadn't had any real alone time to test the new boundaries of their friendship since their conversation in her apartment before she was kidnapped.

Stephanie knew there were bound to be changes in their relationship… probably in ways she couldn't comprehend. She was going to have to make it clear to him that he couldn't break into her apartment in the middle of the night and there'd be no more gifts of cars or depending on him for protection. If she couldn't find a way to do her job without getting hurt, she was going to quit. Ranger was here for her now, but he wouldn't always be here for her. It was time she learned how to stand on her own feet.

Once they were finished with the main course, Ranger revealed the triple layer chocolate cake Ella had made especially for her. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, muscles bulging. He couldn't help smiling as he watched her stuff her mouth with cake.

Stephanie couldn't read people as well as Ranger, but it was clear he had something on his mind. She just wasn't sure she was ready to hear what he had to say. Just when she didn't think she could take the tension a second longer, he got up and started clearing their plates away and helped her back to bed.

When he slid in behind her, spooning her against him, her first instinct was to cuddle in and enjoy his strength, but that went against everything she'd just resolved to do. She sighed because she was weak and decided one last time wouldn't hurt. She snuggled in closer enjoying the feel of his warm, hard body pressed against hers.

"Why didn't you tell me someone was bothering you?" Ranger whispered as he rubbed his thumb over her wrist.

She waited a while before responding, hating that he demanded answers from her but rarely offered any of his own. "I thought I was imagining everything at first. But then it kept happening. I was going to tell you about it when you stopped by before Christmas." She cleared her throat, not really wanting to rehash their previous conversation. "After our talk, it didn't seem right to bother you with my problems anymore."

His fingers stopped moving over her skin. "I've told you before. I'm emotionally attached to you. When you're in danger, I need to know about it." He wasn't being harsh, but adamant. She shouldn't need to be reminded how important she was to him, but it looked like she did. "All of Rangeman is at your disposal… always. When your intuition tells you something's not right, tell someone." He slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed for emphasis. "Even if you just _think _you're in danger, tell me. I almost lost you, Babe. Do you know what that did to me?"

No, she really didn't. And right now, his actions were confusing her. He continually reminded her that she was important to him, that he loved her in his own way, but she needed more from him. She needed him to be 'in love' with her. There was a difference between the two. A big one.

Sure, she and Morelli had an unhealthy relationship, but this wasn't any healthier. In fact, she was certain it was damaging an integral part of her. She turned over onto her back, placing room between them. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, "Did Julie like the bookcase?"

He took a moment to catch up with the change in topic and then nodded his head before sliding off the bed and taking his seat in the chair once again.

"Details, Ranger." She kept her voice strong as she pretended not to feel the loss. "Did she squeal in delight or just politely say thank you?"

"She squealed and jumped up and down." He silently laughed. "And when she remembered me again, she politely thanked me."

"See?" Stephanie moved her foot from under the covers, nudging his knee. "What did I tell you?" She happily gloated.

As soon as he saw her scared ankle, his smile fell, and his face became hard. She tried to pull her leg back under the covers, but he leaned forward, gently holding her calf while he rubbed his thumb over the marks.

Her foot wasn't going anywhere, and she knew it. To get his focus off her injuries, she said, "Tell me you at least had some fun in Miami while you were there." An odd look flashed across his face, but there wasn't enough time to decide what it meant. Had she caused him to miss an important meeting or lose an account? "I'm sorry I messed up your visit."

He got out of the chair and sat with his hip on the bed. He leaned over, laying his head on her breast, her steady heartbeat reassuring him that she was alive. "Nothing is more important than you."

There were so many emotions behind that statement—emotions she didn't understand. The things he said and the way he acted were in direct conflict with each other and it confused her.

"I know you remember what happened to you." His soft voice was tinged with frustration. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

He was used to issuing orders and his men falling in line like good little soldiers, but Stephanie was no soldier. She was the leader of her own line.

"How can I protect you if you don't tell me what happened?" His hand was laying low on her stomach, gently stroking her, staking a claim that he had no right to.

She tried not to get angry. He kept plenty of secrets from her, yet he wanted her to spill all of hers. "There's nothing you can do to help me, Ranger." She tried to put his mind at ease, but if she said any more, he'd figure out what she was hiding and find a way to take care of Durant himself.

"I'll be worried until whoever did this to you is dead."


	32. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 32**

**Needle in A Haystack**

"Good morning," Dr Powell said as she sailed into my room. Joe had been resting on the bed beside me and as soon as he heard Dr. Powell's voice, his feet hit the ground as he eased himself off my bed. It was his day off from work and we were hoping I'd get to go home today. "Your latest test results show a clear improvement," she said as she put her hands on her hips and smiled.

"When can I leave?" I asked. After six long days in the hospital, I was ready to get out of here, go home, and marry Joe.

"How does this afternoon sound?"

I threw the blanket off. "I'll get my stuff."

"Not so fast." She laughed. "I need to know who you're going to be staying with while you recuperate?"

"No one," I said, even though the thought of being alone made my throat tighten and my heart beat faster. "I'm going home; to my own apartment."

She shook her head in regret. "I'm afraid you'll need someone to stay with you. You're still weak and your bandages will need to be changed daily. You won't be able to do it by yourself."

"She'll be staying with me," Joe said as he rocked back on his heels, squinting at me, and daring me to object.

Dr. Powell nodded in satisfaction. "A nurse will be in to explain how to care for her wounds," she told him and then her smile dimmed as if she remembered something unpleasant and turned back to me. "Agent Kinkade called this morning requesting another interview. In light of your recent panic attack, I'd rather you were questioned here while still under my care. That is if you agree. I can put them off, but in my experience, they'll keep coming back." I stared at her without responding. She absently rubbed her temples. "I don't know how much good it will do, but I filed a complaint against Agent Hobbs. Quite possibly, his superiors have taken him off the case and Agent Kinkade will come alone."

"I guess I don't really have a choice." My stomach took that moment to growl in distaste. Just the thought of talking to Barry again, was enough to fill me with dread.

"It's not even lunch time and it sounds like someone's already hungry. I'll go down to the waiting area and see what I can find." Joe kissed me on the lips and went off in search of a vending machine.

Dr. Powell finished her exam and was just about to open the door when Ranger and Hector came in. Hector held the door open for her to exit while Ranger made his way over to me, greeting me with a kiss on the forehead. "Good news," I said. "Looks like I'm going home."

My eyes were drawn to Ranger's full lips as they slowly transformed into a hundred-watt smile. "Will you consider staying on seven? Ella will be at your disposal." He tempted.

I looked away, not wanting him to see the longing in my eyes. "Joe already told Dr. Powell he was taking me home with him."

"How are you feeling, Angelita?" Hector asked, easing the uncomfortable tension in the room.

"Better." I smiled.

A light tap sounded at the door before Cal stuck his head in the room. "Boss? Mr. Cyrus Fusco is here."

"Let him through," Ranger said.

My eyes widened as Cal pushed the door all the way open. The room seemed to shrink as a giant of a man stepped inside. His wrinkled face was covered in white hair and his bifocals were in danger of falling off the end of his nose. "Good to see you, Carlos." His voice boomed as he shook Ranger's hand.

"You too, Cyrus." Ranger turned to me. "Stephanie, this is your attorney, Cyrus Fusco."

I took him in from head to toe, oddly intrigued that he was able to find a three-piece suit to fit his barrel chest. He was giving off a harmless vibe—just a good old boy who shoots the shit on the front porch in a rocking chair—but if Ranger hired him, he had to be the best. I'd bet many have underestimated him and lived to regret it. Our eyes met, and his face lit up in a friendly smile. I liked him instantly. He extended his hand. "It's lovely to meet you Ms. Plum."

"Call me Steph." I smiled and shook his hand.

"Only if you call me Cyrus," he countered. "Carlos seems to think you need representation." The chair creaked as he sat down and removed a yellow legal pad from his briefcase. "I understand your previous interview with the federal agents didn't go very well. They're going to want you to give a formal statement, but before you do that, I'd like to go over what you remember. Can you tell me everything you recall about the time you were missing?"

"I don't remember much." I bit the inside of my jaw, forcing my expression to remain neutral, quickly cataloging what details I could share and what I had to keep to myself. The weight of his perceptive gaze was heavy as he analyzed me. I wasn't fooling him for a second.

"Everything you tell me is privileged. As your attorney, I can advise you on the best course of action, but I can't do that if you don't confide in me." He looked over at Hector and Ranger. "Carlos, would you and your associate mind stepping out so I can speak with Stephanie alone?"

Ranger nodded and got to his feet, but before he could take a step, the door opened. "Sorry for the interruption, Boss," Cal said. "But there's two FBI agents here to talk to Stephanie."

"Step aside or I'll have you arrested for obstruction of justice." I heard Barry's voice, but couldn't see him because Ram was standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. There was no way Barry was getting inside until Ram was damn good and ready to move.

"Let me do the talking," Cyrus said to me and then raised his voice loud enough for the guys in the hall to hear. "Allow the agents inside."

Barry walked in like he owned the place and Agent Kinkade reluctantly followed on his heels. "What's he doing here?" Barry demanded as he eyed Cyrus with blatant contempt. From the tone of his voice, he clearly knew of Cyrus's reputation as a high-powered attorney.

"Mr. Fusco is here to ensure Stephanie's rights aren't violated." Ranger gave Barry a warning look, more menacing than I'd ever seen from him before. "You will speak to her with respect." He didn't have to say the 'or else,' part. Everyone knew the consequences would be dire.

Barry scowled, but remained at the foot of the bed beside Agent Kinkade. "Good morning, Stephanie. We just have a few follow up questions." She looked at Cyrus and added, "That is, if you feel up to it."

"Look what I found." Joe walked in shaking a Butterscotch Krimpet in front of him. His arms were loaded with several kinds of junk food and a bottle of Dr. Pepper. As soon as he registered the room full of people, his cop face slid into place. He eyed each visitor warily as he placed the items on my tray and kissed me on the lips. When he straightened, he focused on my new attorney. "Who are you?"

"The name's Cyrus Fusco, I'm Ms. Plum's attorney." Cyrus held his hand out to a confused Joe.

"Detective, Joe Morelli," he said as he shook hands with him, scrutinizing the big man carefully.

"Nice to meet you, Detective." He turned his attention to Agent Kinkade, extending his hand to her as well. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Cyrus Fusco and you are?"

"Special Agent Piper Kinkade." She smiled and shook his hand, charmed by his genteel manners. "And this is my partner, Special Agent Barry Hobbs."

"It's lovely to meet you," Cyrus said to her before courteously turning to Barry who was holding his hand out, imperiously awaiting his due. "I've heard quite a bit about Special Agent Hobbs." The look he gave Barry wasn't overly rude, but his body language told everyone in the room his opinion of Barry Hobbs.

Just the thought of going another round with Barry was making my stomach hurt. I was afraid something like yesterday would happen and I'd crawl under the bed like a mental patient again. Sweat broke out on my forehead and I didn't think I could take being in his presence for another second. "Get out," I demanded so forcefully everyone in the room turned to stare at me.

"Excuse me?" Barry jerked his head toward me, brows raised, eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe I dared tell him what to do.

I pulled my eyes away from him and turned to Agent Kinkade. "You're wasting your time. As long as he's in the room, I won't say a word."

"You don't get to decide who interrogates you." Barry tried to step around Agent Kinkade to get closer to me, but she blocked his progress.

"Interrogate?" Cyrus interrupted. "Are you suggesting my client is a suspect in a crime, Agent Hobbs? I was informed that this was a simple interview to garner information as to who abducted Ms. Plum."

Barry's eyes narrowed. I think he realized today's '_interview'_ wasn't going to be easy.

"Of course not," Agent Kinkade insisted. "Stephanie was a victim of a terrible crime and we'd simply like to interview her."

"I'm not saying another word until _he_ leaves." I let the anger bubble around me, luxuriating in its power. "If that's not good enough, you can both leave."

"I believe my client has made her wishes clear. If Agent Hobbs is in attendance, this _'interview'_ is over."

"This is my case." Barry's voice rose in pitch. "And I'm not leaving just because Stephanie doesn't want to answer the hard questions. She's a liar. For all we know, she's protecting whoever did this. Given her history and the people she associates with, she could have gotten mixed up with anyone."

Barry's diatribe caused two things to happen at once. Ranger, Joe, and Hector began a menacing advance on him, and my heart monitors started beeping like crazy. The door flew open and nurse Cathy burst in. "Out!" she screamed. "Everyone out."

Barry pushed his badge in her face. "Ma'am, I'm a federal agent and you're impeding my investigation."

"You can take that up with Dr. Powell," she fired back and began pushing buttons on my heart monitor. "But right now, you're getting out of my patient's room."

"Just step out and give us a minute." Agent Kinkade tried smoothing Barry's feathers.

Knowing he'd lost this battle, his eyes narrowed, and his features hardened. He was telling me without words that I hadn't seen the last of him. The door hit the wall as he swung it open, causing nurse Cathy and I to jump at the loud sound. "This room needs to be cleared." She made eye contact with everyone while continuing to take my vitals.

"It's okay. Agent Kinkade can stay. I'd rather finish this," I told her as I willed my heart rate to return to normal.

She pressed the button for the nurse's station and requested they page Dr. Powell. Once my numbers were within acceptable range, she stood back, letting Agent Kinkade continue.

"It's not my intention to cause you any upset, Stephanie." Agent Kinkade smiled and moved to stand closer to Joe on my left side. "If you start to feel uncomfortable in any way, we can stop." I gave her a thin smile. Her concern was genuine, and I appreciated that. "Have you recalled anything since we talked yesterday?"

"I don't think so," I said before I was seized by a violent cough. Joe helped me turn onto my side, rubbing my back to ease my discomfort. When I was breathing normally again, I said, "All I know is that something bad happened to me and no one will tell me what that was."

"We're still trying to figure that out." She paused as if debating something and then said, "I'd like to try a cognitive interview technique; would that be okay?"

"What would I have to do?" I asked a little warily, hoping she wasn't going to put me in a trance and extract every detail against my will.

"I just need you to close your eyes and clear your mind." Her kind smile was drawing me in. Joe reached for my hand, grasping it tight as I closed my eyes. "Yesterday, you said there were trees all around, but you couldn't remember how you came to be driving the truck. I want you to imagine the keys in your hand."

I did as she asked, but I had no intention of giving away any more information than yesterday. After a second, I let my mouth fall open, affecting surprise as if I suddenly remembered something new. "You're right! I'm holding a set of keys."

"That's good." I could hear the excitement in her voice. "What did you do with the keys?"

"I pushed the button on the remote, and then a red light flashed beside the scary tree."

"What do you mean by… scary tree?"

"It had limbs reaching out like arms and it had gnarls on the trunk where the eyes would be and a large distorted hole that looked like a wide-open mouth, mid scream." I shivered and Joe gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not sure if it was a dream or if it was real."

"Are you saying the truck was parked next to the scary tree?"

"Yes."

"Walk toward the truck, Stephanie."

"Okay."

"What are you doing now?"

"I'm scared," I told her. "I'm hurrying, but I dropped the keys." I tried not to, but I started crying as I remembered how panicked I'd been to get away.

"Let's go forward a little bit. You're in the truck and driving down the trail. You have a phone in your hand. What happened after that?"

"I was talking to Ranger."

"Yes. In the recording Mr. Manoso provided, you said a man was standing in the road ahead of you. Can you describe him?"

"I'm not sure." I pretended to imagine it again. "Everything seems blurry." I shook my head in frustration. "Maybe it was an animal or a shadow. Everything is zooming by."

"This next question might be a little upsetting. Remember, we can stop at any time."

"You can ask your question, agent, but if Stephanie becomes upset, I'm stopping this line of questioning," Cyrus said.

She must have nodded or given some indication that she agreed because she went ahead with her next question. "Can you feel if it was warm or cold where you were being held?"

"Cold… always cold." I put my arms around my stomach, shivering. She was good at drawing a person in and I was afraid I was going to let something slip. I opened my eyes. "I'm getting tired."

"I think that's enough for today," Cyrus said.

Joe sat down on the side of my bed, pulling me into his chest. He was in protective mode and I was going to let him.

"Just a couple more questions," she urged. "Could you tell if you were being held in a wooden structure or was it made of concrete? Any little detail could be helpful."

"I just remember being cold… and hurting… it never stopped."

She gave me a sad smile. "Can you remember anything else… maybe a landmark of some sort."

"Just the scary tree."

"Alright. So far, we have a truck parked next to a tree that looks scary. That's good. That's definitely something to go on. If we drove in the direction you were fleeing, do you think you could find that tree again?"

"She's not going to ride all over the Pine Barrens in her condition," Joe said. "She's still recovering from pneumonia and a serious heart condition. I'm taking her home."

Cyrus made a show of checking his watch before getting to his feet, addressing Agent Kinkade. "I'm due in court this afternoon. If Stephanie agrees to this excursion, she is not to be questioned without me being present."

Agent Kinkade nodded and then turned her questioning eyes on me. "It's up to you Stephanie, but whoever took you could be doing the same thing to someone else right this minute."

I knew Durant wasn't hurting anyone else. He'd never hurt anyone ever again.

"I guess I can try."

She smiled, pleased that I was cooperating. She turned to nurse Cathy. "Will two hours give you enough time to complete her release?" Cathy nodded but didn't seem pleased.

"You don't have to do this today," Joe said as he and Ranger exchanged a worried glance.

"I have to at least try, Joe."

"Fine." He turned to address Agent Kinkade. "We'll see you at the crash site in two hours."

I had no intention of leading anyone to the cellar today, not as long as there was a chance he was still alive.

* * *

Joe pulled in behind the other SUV's and turned to me, placing his hand on my knee. "Sit tight, I'll be back in a minute." He left the engine running to keep me warm and opened the door, heading over to the group of feds. I hadn't taken my eyes off the frightening sight before me since we came around the bend in the road. Now that the snow had melted, I could see a patch of scorched earth and the large section of bark missing from the tree I'd crashed into. They were the only visible reminders that something bad had happened here.

My heartbeat faltered, thinking about how close I'd come to dying… again. I turned the heater off, suddenly burning up. The backdoors of the SUV opened, interrupting the beginnings of a freak out. I turned to find Hector and Lester climbing in to get out of the cold. They had been the one's to find me—somewhere amidst all the trees.

"Where was I when you found me?" I asked as I peered out at the landscape in all directions. Hector pointed North, through a copse of trees, past where Ranger, Joe, and the federal agents were standing. Thankfully, Barry wasn't among them… or at least, I hadn't seen him.

Agent Kinkade started walking toward us with Ranger and Joe following. As soon as she got close enough, I pressed the button to lower the window. "Does anything look familiar?" she asked.

I gave the area another once over and slowly shook my head.

"The crime scene report indicates you were driving east when you had the accident. That means you were driving away from where you were being held. I'd like to head West and see if you recognize anything."

"You can ride with us." Joe motioned for Agent Kinkade to get in the backseat.

I opened my door and carefully got out. "You can ride shotgun," I told her as I got in the back with Hector and Lester.

One look from Ranger had Lester vacating the backseat. As Ranger slid in on the other side of me, he gave me a thoughtful look. I turned away, not wanting him to see the guilt on my face. Misleading him went against everything our friendship stood for, but what choice did I have?

As we rode, I checked my surroundings on both sides of the road for something familiar. I didn't recognize a thing. A hysterical bubble of laughter tried to escape. I'd been so worried about how to lead them away from the cellar that I never considered I might not be able to find it myself.

Soon, everything started blurring together, and my eyes got heavy. I hadn't intended to fall asleep, but once I was out, they decided to head back to the crash site. I woke up with my head on Hector's shoulder and everyone sitting silently. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, careful of my bruises.

"Did you recognize anything." Joe turned around in his seat to look at me.

"No, but I guess I wasn't much help after I fell asleep."

"I'd like to try a different approach tomorrow," Agent Kinkade said. "Do you think you'd be up to coming back?"

"Sure," I sighed, wanting to tell her to get lost, but knowing I had to see this through.

Joe and Agent Kinkade walked away, discussing the logistics of tomorrow's excursion. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to tamp down the pain. My pill had worn off a while ago. Ranger put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay, Babe?"

"I'm fine, just sore."

"You should get some rest," he said as he helped me out of the backseat and into the front. Just as I leaned back and closed my eyes, Joe came jogging over and got in the driver's seat. The next thing I knew, we were in Joe's driveway and he was gently shaking me awake. Tears clouded my eyes as I stared at his house. I didn't think I'd ever see it again.

"Let me go in and put Bob in the bathroom. He's really missed you, but I don't think you're up to the kind of welcome he'd give you."

I tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. I still hadn't taken my pain pill and I needed it badly. A couple minutes later, he came back out and helped me inside. As soon as he opened the door, a wonderful aroma assaulted me. He ushered me straight to the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table.

"My mother dropped off a surprise for you," he said as he opened the oven door. "Stuffed shells in cream sauce."

My head jerked up. "Your mother made her famous stuffed shells for me? But she hates me."

He handed me the pills and a glass of water. "She doesn't hate you."

"I'm pretty sure she does," I huffed. "I'm the harlot leading her baby boy into sin."

Joe laughed as he took the dish out of the oven. "You're thinking of Grandma Bella." He turned around and smiled. "She definitely hates you. But don't take it personally, Cupcake. She hates everyone."

"Everyone, but you," I whispered.

"Yeah, I'm her favorite." He smiled as he placed two heaping plates on the table, a glass of milk for me, and a beer for him. "You sure it's a good idea to go back out there tomorrow?" he asked.

I shrugged and continued eating. When I finished my last bite, I pushed my plate away and stood. "I need a shower."

"Let me get the waterproof sleeve for your cast." He retrieved it from the hospital bag and placed it over my cast before removing the bandages and kissing my forehead. "Do you need help getting undressed?"

"No, I'm good." I plastered a smile on my face, hiding the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. After being forced to remain naked for weeks, I didn't want anyone to see my vulnerability.

He gave me a sad smile. "I'll clean up down here and let Bob out to do his business. Yell if you need any help."

I slowly made my way upstairs, pausing to look at things I usually took for granted. There was the worn couch that Joe and I cuddled on and the scarred wooden bed we made love in. It was all still here, looking the same, yet it all felt different. I was outside my body looking at all these places. As if I once belonged and now no longer did.

I turned away from the bedroom and headed into the bathroom, shedding my clothes on the way. The trek up the stairs had zapped my energy, leaving me trembling and out of breath. I summoned enough strength to open the shower door and step inside. I turned the water as hot as I could stand and let it flow over me. I'd showered in the hospital, but I hadn't felt clean afterward. This time I was determined to wash Durant's touch off me once and for all.

I squeezed shower gel onto the puff, scrubbing my skin till it burned. I was so focused on disinfecting myself, I didn't hear the bathroom door open. I washed the suds out of my eyes and caught sight of a shadowy presence through the steamed covered glass. I yelped and stumbled backward, hitting my back against the tile. The pain was so intense, I nearly blacked out.

"Sorry, Cupcake." Joe was holding a towel, scowling as he took in my naked body. It was the first time anyone but medical staff had seen all my wounds. He hesitated, unsure of what to do and then forced his lips into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. I knew he was fighting his anger on my behalf. "I didn't mean to scare you. Do you need any help?"

My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. I'd never been physically afraid of Joe, but right now I was having a hard time separating him from Durant. "No," I said as I took the towel from him and turned off the water.

His eyes softened as he pointed to the clothes lying on the vanity. "I know how much you love my old police academy t-shirt."

I managed a smile as my breathing finally returned to normal. That shirt had been washed so many times it felt like silk against my skin. He pulled the protective sleeve off my arm and laid it in the sink to dry, but when he picked up the shirt, I shimmied out of his reach. I'd had enough of men dressing me and making me do things I wasn't comfortable with.

He held his hands up in surrender and put his hand on the doorknob. "I left the bandages downstairs. I'll go get them and be right back."

By the time he returned, I'd managed to get dressed in the t-shirt and my underwear. Since I couldn't reach, I allowed him to lift my shirt to apply the antibiotic ointment and bandages on my back and then my ankles. When he got to my wrists, he held them gently while looking into my eyes. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he spoke to me without words. I met his eyes for a few seconds and then looked down. I hadn't considered how hard it was for him to see me this way.

He reached for my brush and panic bubbled in my chest. As if I'd conjured him, I could feel Durant's fingers running through my hair as he brushed my curls. I jerked the brush out of his hand. "I can do it!"

"I know you can." He flashed me a look of concern through the mirror's reflection. "I just want to help you."

"I know," I said as I quickly ran the brush through the knots, giving him half a smile to ease the weirdness I'd caused. "I'm exhausted, let's go to bed."

"I'm going to take a quick shower," he said as he kissed my forehead. "Go ahead and get in bed. I'll be in as soon as I'm done."

Sometime in the night, I heard a grunting sound and jerked awake. I was breathing rapidly and paralyzed with fear. I didn't know where I was or who was in the room with me. I looked around wildly, but I couldn't see a thing in the dark. "It's just Bob," Joe whispered in my ear as he drew me back down on the bed, wrapping himself around me. "I've got you." I remained stiff, unable to shake off the bad memories. I knew he was trying to help and having him here did help, but it wasn't enough. Sensing my internal turmoil, he asked, "Would it help if I turned the bathroom light on?"

"Yes." My voice sounded small, not at all like mine.

Once the light was filtering into the room, I could see into the corners and felt better knowing Durant wasn't hiding, ready to jump out at me. It took a while to get back to sleep, but Joe held me and never complained.


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

**X Marks the Spot**

One minute I was lying on the bed in the cellar and the next I was waking up in Joe's bed, disoriented—the phantom metal collar digging into my skin—tightening like a noose around my neck. I rubbed my hand over the area, trying to ease the constriction that was no longer there. Instead of getting up, I lay there, dreading what this morning would bring.

Sunlight shone through the blinds, making me believe it was going to be a beautiful day, but I knew better. This day was going to be filled with so much darkness I was afraid I'd never see the light again. If all went according to plan, later today I would come full circle—right back to the cellar where I started. I only hoped, when I woke up tomorrow morning, I wasn't behind bars.

I didn't have to look to know that Joe wasn't in bed behind me. I carefully rolled over, testing my sore ribs, deciding I could make it to the bathroom and get ready without his help. While I was pulling my hair back into a ponytail, he tapped on the door. "You need any help?"

"No. I'll be out in a minute."

By the time I made it downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, my legs were trembling from the effort. He gave me a kiss and handed my coat to me. "I thought we'd go through the McDonald's Drive-thru instead of making something here."

The morning air was so cold we could see our breath as we pulled up in front of the speaker getting ready to order our food. In the cellar, I'd been so hungry that in order to cope, I imagined myself in this exact position, and now here I was—able to order anything I wanted yet I couldn't speak. The irony wasn't lost on me. The longer I stared at the drive thru menu, the angrier I became. I didn't even notice the tears falling down my face.

"What's wrong?" Joe caught my tears with his thumb and wiped them away. "Are you feeling okay?"

There was no way to explain what I was feeling. I barely understood it myself.

"How about I order for us?" He placed a large order that covered all my favorites. "Can you think of anything else?" I shook my head and tried to muster an upbeat smile. We picked the food up at the next window and pulled into a parking space to eat.

"Do you want the pancakes?" he asked as he pulled the container out of the bag and took the lid off before pouring syrup and adding a hash brown. I nodded and took the Styrofoam tray while he pulled out the Big Breakfast and dug in. After he finished, he leaned back in his seat, rubbing his belly. "I can't eat another bite." He looked at the two cinnamon rolls still in the bag. "You want them?"

I shook my head. I couldn't force another bite.

"We'll hold on to them for a midmorning snack." He folded the bag over and stored it in the console.

Just as he was about to start the engine, I put my hand on his forearm. "Thank you." I held his eyes with mine for a beat, making sure he knew how much he meant to me.

"Get comfortable." He smiled. "We have a long drive ahead of us."

We rode in silence, each caught up in our own thoughts. An hour later, we turned off the county road onto the narrow winding trail that led to the crash site. Ahead of us, several enclosed utility vehicles were being unloaded from trailers. "Let me find out what's going on," he said as he got out of the truck and jogged over to Ranger, Agent Kinkade, and the rest of the federal agents. As they talked, their heads kept swiveling back my way. I didn't like the idea of them talking about me. Since Joe left the engine running, I pressed the button to roll down the window, hoping to catch a few words.

"It's too cold out here." Joe's voice carried across the wind. "She's just getting over pneumonia."

"The UTV is heated," Agent Kinkade explained.

From several feet away, I saw Hector pushing a UTV big enough to fit four people off its trailer. I got out and started walking toward him. Halfway there, Ranger fell in step with me, putting his arm around my shoulder. "You alright, Babe?" I nodded absently.

"Stephanie?" Agent Kinkade approached on my other side. "Would you be okay riding in the UTV today? I think we need to get off the road to broaden the search area." Before I could answer, the roar of an engine caught our attention. We all watched as a black SUV pulled up and parked. I couldn't make out the driver because of the tinted windows, but when Agent Kinkade sighed, I got my first inkling of who was in the truck. The door opened and Barry stepped out. Since he hadn't been present yesterday, I assumed he was off the case.

Joe came around to stand in front of Agent Kinkade. "What's he doing here?"

"This is _my_ case." Barry walked up to them in time to hear Joe's comment. He gave me a pointed look and then turned to Agent Kinkade. "You and I will ride with Ms. Plum."

"Stephanie will be riding with me." Ranger didn't wait for Barry to respond. He helped me into the back of the UTV and Hector got in beside me. Then he got into the driver's seat and Joe followed suit by getting in the front passenger seat. Tank, Lester, Bones, and Cal rode in the second UTV as Agent Kinkade and Barry got in another, along with a couple more agents. The rest of the feds followed as we took off at a slow pace.

I fidgeted in my seat as I toyed with the idea of not leading them to the cellar. What was the worst that could happen? I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. It could be years, if ever, before anyone stumbled upon the underground bunker. I was warming up to the idea until I realized that meant leaving the women down there—alone—without justice. I couldn't do it. They deserved peace and I was the only one who could give it to them.

We'd been driving for a couple hours when I spotted the tree. One minute I was fine, the next I was barely able to draw in air. It felt as if someone was squeezing my heart. "Angelita—" Hector twisted in the seat beside me, gripping my shoulders.

His mouth was moving, but all I could hear was the sound of my pulse echoing in my ears. I grabbed hold of his coat, clutching it desperately. I couldn't breathe. _Help me_, I tried to scream. "C… Can't breathe." I frantically rubbed at the burning sensation in my chest, gasping for air.

The UTV slid to a stop and Ranger gently lifted me out. "You have to slow your breathing," he said. "You're going to hyperventilate."

"Can't—" A wave of heat engulfed me, and I dropped to my knees, wheezing. My blood was pounding, pumping blazes of fire through my body and my vision was getting cloudy around the edges, narrowing my world until I couldn't see.

"Where does it hurt?" Joe asked as he knelt on the ground, taking his coat off to make a pillow. He bundled it under my head and carefully laid me back on the ground. "Is it your heart?" He placed his hand on my chest.

I couldn't speak. I was trapped in my mind—stuck back in the cellar. Durant's hands were all over me. I struggled to get away—breathing harder than I ever had in my life, but it didn't feel like I was getting any air at all. I turned to the side, vomiting my breakfast all over the ground.

"I'm taking her back to the hospital," Joe said.

"Back up!" Ranger yelled to the feds crowding around. He ran his hand across my damp forehead, brushing away the tendrils of hair that were sticking to my face.

"Here," Tank said as he took off his coat and draped it over me. "She might be going into shock."

"Give me some room," Bones ordered and then I felt something squeeze my arm. "Her BP's 157/112 and her heart rate's 160. She's having a panic attack. We have to get her to calm down."

Ranger put his hands on each side of my face, turning me to look at him. "Stephanie, listen to me," he calmly said. "You're going to be fine. I need you to breathe in through your nose and hold it while I count."

My mouth had been wide open, helplessly sucking in air. I tried to close it and breathe through my nose just as he asked, but when I did, I felt like I was suffocating. I gasped even harder. Ranger lightly squeezed my jaw, forcing me to focus on him. "Close your mouth and breathe in until I tell you to stop." His eyes never left mine. "One… two… three… Hold it… Don't let it out. Now exhale through your mouth. Good." He placed my hand over his own heart. "Do you feel that? Forget everything else and focus on that beat."

He counted several more sets of four and finally my breathing started to slow. "I'm okay," I said as my shoulders sagged.

Ranger held a bottle of water to my lips. "Drink slowly." He instructed. I took a few sips and let my head fall back onto Joe's balled up coat.

Bones broke off a piece of dark chocolate from a candy bar and handed it to Ranger. I opened my mouth like a baby bird, and he slipped it inside. "Let it melt in your mouth," Bones said. "It'll help lower your blood pressure. I'm going to call Dr. Powell and let her know what's happening." As he placed the call, I let my eyes close. I heard him rummaging in his bag again and when I opened my eyes, he had a syringe in his hand.

"Wait a minute." Joe put his hand out, blocking Bones from giving me in the injection. "What the hell are you giving her?"

"Bones is a trained Army field medic," Ranger said. "He's the best I've ever worked with. Stephanie couldn't be in better hands."

Bones ignored the debate about his credentials. "This is just a mild sedative," he told me. "Don't worry. It won't knock you out." After he gave me the shot, he checked my blood pressure again and this time his face didn't look as concerned.

"Is her blood pressure coming down?" Joe looked from Bones to me and back again.

"It is." Bones nodded. "I'll still need to monitor her for a while longer." I did my best to stay calm and pretend that the cellar wasn't practically underneath us. Half an hour later, I was allowed to sit up. Bones checked my blood pressure again and declared me recovered enough to stand.

As soon as I was on my feet, Joe turned me in the direction of the UTV. "I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"No," I said, digging my feet in. "I'm feeling better now."

"Are you up to continuing?" Agent Kinkade's concerned voice broke through the commotion. "We could try again tomorrow."

"She's fine, Piper," Barry said before I had a chance to respond. "She's not some kind of damsel in distress." Growls of outrage surrounded me, but I wasn't insulted. Unknowingly, Barry had given me a compliment. He was right, I wasn't some damsel who needed saving. I'd gotten out of the cellar and away from Durant all by myself and I needed to remember that.

"What happened?" Joe watched me curiously. "Why did you suddenly get upset?"

I scanned the surrounding trees until I found the one with the scary face. I grabbed Hector's hand and started walking in that direction. Everyone else fell in line. With each step, my feet got heavier until I felt as if I was slogging through quicksand. I ran my fingers over the bumps in the bark, tracing the holes in the trunk where the eyes and mouth were. I looked at Agent Kinkade. "This is the tree."

She inspected it with new understanding. I think my description was finally making sense to her. She looked around the area. "You said the truck was parked near the tree?"

"There." I pointed to the pile of brush to the left of the tree. "That's where I found the truck."

Her eyes narrowed as she turned her head slowly in all directions, looking for the place I'd been held. Seeing nothing, she asked, "How long did you walk before you found the truck?"

Before I could answer, Barry stepped into my personal space, forcing me to back up. "Maybe she was beamed up by aliens." He stuck his lower lip out, putting on an exaggerated pout. "And when they finished with her, they dropped her off at this big bad scary tree."

I ignored his sarcastic comment and pointed to an area several yards away where I thought the trap door was located. Everyone started walking in that direction except for Hector. He clasped his hand in mine, hanging back at the tree with me. I wasn't getting any closer to the cellar than I had to.

They would take a few steps and then turn to look at me with puzzled expressions, trying to gauge if they were going in the right direction. They were trusting me even though they saw no visible signs of a dwelling where I could have been held. I couldn't be sure, but it looked like Joe was standing right on top of the hatch. "Stop, Joe!" I yelled. He stopped immediately and jerked his head toward me, brows drawn together. "It's right there," I said, pointing to the ground under his feet.

He looked down, studying the area intently. There was nothing remarkable, just brown, brittle pine needles and other forest debris covering the ground. I sighed in frustration. They were never going to find it without my help. Hector put his arm around me as we walked toward them. I stopped several feet away.

Ranger closed the distance, quietly asking, "Are you sure, Babe?" I nodded. It was there… I knew it was.

"There's nothing here. It's just a bunch of pine needles." Joe looked up, frowning when he saw Ranger's arm around my shoulders.

"Is it an underground bunker?" Ranger asked.

I nodded my head. I didn't blame them for not seeing it. The camouflage made the trap door blend in with the land. Ranger left me with Hector and joined Joe to inspect the ground. I wanted to get out of here, but if I didn't show them where it was, we'd be here all day. I took a fortifying breath and followed, stopping just shy of where I believed the door was located.

I used my foot to brush the pine needles away. Some scattered while others stayed in place. Everyone looked at me, confused about what I was doing. I continued kicking at the ground, until I'd revealed the beginnings of an angular shape. It was oddly quiet; the only noise came from the occasional chirping birds as Ranger and Joe got down on their knees and started sweeping their hands over a larger section. Once the area was cleared of everything that wasn't glued down, we were left with large rectangular outline that still had pine needles adhered.

Ranger and Joe looked up at me, eyes full of sorrow and regret. They were just starting to understand what I'd known all along. Durant had mastered the art of disguise. If I hadn't gotten out, I would have died down there because no one would have ever found the cellar—or me.

Seeing it brought back memories of my escape. I remembered the fear. It was so real, I felt like it was happening all over again. I felt the rush of blood beneath my skin and started shaking uncontrollably. My chest fluttered, and my breathing got harder.

Crazy thoughts zipped through my head.

What if I hadn't made it out of the cellar and this was all an elaborate dream my feverish mind had concocted? Was I going to wake up on the musty mattress, screaming when they opened the door? Or worst of all; maybe I wasn't going to wake up because I was already dead. That thought scared the hell out of me.

While Ranger felt around the edges for a way to open the door, everyone else drew their guns. I took a step back, automatically putting space between me and the cellar. Hector fell in step with me, unwilling to let me out of his sight. When Ranger found the side that opened, he hesitated and looked at me. For once, his eyes were filled with so many emotions… apology, concern, worry. I didn't know which was the most dominant. I gave him an infinitesimal nod, letting him know it was okay to go ahead. And then he slowly raised the door.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

**Down the Hatch**

I didn't know what was going to happen when Ranger opened the door. For all I knew Durant was waiting to spring out at all of us. I started to panic. My heart was thumping in my chest. As I took a step backward, Hector grabbed my hand and fell in step with me. I latched onto him as if he were my lifeline. He was probably just as curious as everyone else about what was down there, but he was more concerned about me.

Everyone else had gathered around the opening and were looking down into the tomb. I didn't know what they were seeing. It had been so dark as I struggled to make my way up the stairs, that I hadn't been able to get a good look around.

"What the hell," Joe said, turning to me with a horrified expression. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something, but before I could utter a word, an orb of light shot out of the hole, narrowly missing his head, and yet none of them reacted.

I was so startled that I lurched backward. If Hector hadn't been holding my hand I would have fallen. I shook my head, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. Just then, another blinding flash of light shot out and then another and another. One after the other they escaped until there were eight orbs and one tiny ball of light lined side by side, hovering in the sky. They were so bright my eyes were watering. Instinctually, I knew they were the women. I should have been frightened, but instead, I was engulfed in a warm feeling that gave me an all-consuming peace.

I didn't want to do anything to break the spell, but I had to ask. "Do you see that?" I whispered to Hector.

"See what?"

"The lights," I said, my voice soft with amazement. "The beautiful lights."

He craned his neck to look around, but I got the feeling he couldn't see what I was seeing. As I stared open mouthed at the sky, I realized it had gotten deathly quiet. I quickly looked around to find everyone staring at me with worried expressions.

_Didn't they see them?_

In unison, the orbs brightened as if pulsing with renewed life, letting me know they were grateful and happy to finally be free. I can't explain the feeling I had inside, but the guilt that I had been struggling with eased, leaving me with only their approval for what I'd done to Durant. They floated closer, gently undulating as they formed a circle around myself and Hector. It was as if they were gathering us in their warm embrace. It was so bright, I had to put my hand up to shield my eyes. As a final show of gratitude, the orbs pulsed brightly one last time and then disappeared.

As soon as they vanished, the weight I'd been carrying lifted and I stumbled backward, my legs weak and wobbling. Everything around me started to spin, and I knew I was going down. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground. "Angelita, are you okay?"

Before I could answer, Barry yelled, "Everyone, step back. This is now an official crime scene." He was scowling in my direction, unhappy that I'd been able to lead them to a place that was undeniably sinister. One look in his eyes told me that he was scrambling for a way to save face in front of the other feds. The grudge he held against me had clouded his view of the facts, but now that the cellar had been revealed, he couldn't claim I'd gone off with a _'man_' and taken part in an orgy of rough sex or chosen to stay away on purpose, causing everyone to worry needlessly.

I returned Barry's stare with a satisfied one of my own. I hoped he would leave it at that because I didn't have the strength to go another round with him, I didn't even have the strength to stand by myself. If it weren't for Hector's strong arms around me, I'd have been lying on the ground again.

Ranger and Joe made their way over to us. Joe placed his hands on my shoulders, bending at the knees so we were at eye level. "What's down there, Stephanie?" He wanted answers, but I just couldn't give him an explanation. It would take too long and too much time and I didn't want to have to do it more than once. When I gave my statement, that would be the only time I talked about what happened down there. I looked down at the ground, hoping that he wouldn't pressure me. He straightened and blew out a frustrated breath, disappointed that I wasn't desperate to offer an explanation. "I need to find out how the feds are going to handle this," he said and motioned for Ranger to step away with him.

At times my safety required them to work together in order to protect me. I watched as they had their muffled conversation, knowing that this was the part where Joe passed me off to Ranger for safe keeping while he took care of 'the situation' with the feds. There were variations of this scenario. Sometimes Ranger was responsible for keeping me safe and sometimes Joe was. It depended on who was better qualified at the moment. I was grateful for their support, but it made me feel like a toy that they shared… a sexual toy. It all left a bad taste in my mouth.

When they finished talking, Joe continued on towards the cellar while Ranger came over to stand in front of me with his hand out. He expected me to leave the comfort of Hector's arms for his, but I didn't. Hector wasn't interested in asking me questions or getting in my pants. His motivations were simple. He only wanted to be my friend. His loyal support reinforced his place in my life. I didn't want to hurt Ranger. He'd done so much for me, but things were changing; everywhere I looked they were changing… me most of all.

I looked over at the scary tree, wishing I was over there. Sensing my need to get away from the cellar, Hector took my hand and said, "We should move out of the way." I think I saw hurt in Ranger's eyes, but I couldn't be sure. He stayed behind watching intently as Hector and I made our way to the tree. From there, I watched Barry take his first step down the stairs with Agent Kinkade ready to follow. They had their guns drawn and apprehensive expressions on their faces.

I waited until Barry's head was the last thing I could see and then yelled out, "You should be careful." His head snapped toward the sound of my voice and so did Agent Kinkade's. Barry's eyes narrowed into a scowl, hating that I knew something he didn't. He wanted to know why I was warning him, but he'd rather eat shit than ask. Agent Kinkade on the other hand, simply nodded her head, giving my warning the credence it deserves.

They continued down the stairs until both of them disappeared from view. For several long seconds, we couldn't see what they were doing and then Agent Kinkade yelled up the cinder block stairs, "We need bolt cutters down here."

"I've got a pair in my bag," Lester said as he jogged over to his UTV.

My feelings were at war. On one hand, I was relieved to know that the door was still bolted, meaning Durant hadn't gotten out, but on the other hand, I was horrified that I was now a killer. After seven days, I was almost certain he was dead.

Lester handed the cutters down to Agent Kinkade. It wasn't long until we heard them cursing and gasping for breath. Everyone turned my way, looking for an explanation. A minute or two later, Barry came barreling up the stairs. His face was pale, and he was holding the lapel of his coat over his face. He didn't stop running until he was several feet away from the hatch. He leaned over with his hands on his knees gulping fresh air.

I didn't need to imagine what it smelled like down there. I knew. I'd smelled the women's rotting corpses through the glass cases for weeks, but they hadn't been freshly deceased. With barely any ventilation, Durant's rotting body would smell much worse.

I kept waiting for Agent Kinkade to reappear. Of course, Barry had left her down there without a thought. Such a gentleman. I was starting to get a little worried but then she finally came running up the stairs, just as desperate for air as Barry had been, but with a lot less drama. "Close… that… door," she yelled in between gasps to the agent standing closest to the hatch.

"What the hell's going on?" Joe shouted as he came around to stand in front of her. "What's down there?"

She didn't answer him right away. She was more interested in getting herself under control. Finally, she straightened and if you hadn't just seen her run up out of the ground like the hounds of hell were chasing her, you'd have no idea she'd just seen something harrowing. Her eyes found mine in the distance. There was something in them that I couldn't translate. Was it understanding… or accusation? "The situation is more complicated than we assumed," she told Joe, her eyes never leaving mine.

Ranger followed her gaze, studying me intently. "Complicated how?"

I don't know if she would have answered Ranger or not because Barry didn't give her time. "No one goes down there." He made eye contact with everyone and then pulled Agent Kinkade to the side, speaking in hushed tones. The longer they talked, the redder his face became. Finally, he threw his hands up in frustration, pulled out his phone, and began barking orders to whoever was unfortunate enough to answer on the other end.

"I need a full crime scene unit dispatched to my location." He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. "We'll need to set up a mobile command center ASAP and get Shaw here… yesterday!" An annoyed look crossed his face as he listened. "I don't care what he has on his schedule. He's going to want to see this firsthand."

By the time he was done with his call, he was gripping the phone so hard it was in danger of being crushed. He turned around, eyes connecting with mine. His expression bordered on crazy. When he started charging in my direction, I had to force myself not to retreat. I swallowed hard as I whispered to Hector. "I had to do it." I pleaded with him to understand. "I didn't have a choice."

There was no hesitation or judgment from Hector. He grasped my shoulders, forcing me to listen. "Whatever you did, you did it to survive. You are alive, nothing else matters." I wanted to believe him—more than anything. I gave him a nod and swallowed the lump building in my throat. "Say nothing," he said, "not without Mr. Fusco present." The only thing I could do was nod again.

Barry had several feet head start before Ranger and Joe realized his intent and started rushing to catch up with him. Seconds before he reached us, Hector slid me behind him, putting himself in the line of fire. Barry was on a rampage, not giving any thought to the danger he was putting himself in. Hector wouldn't hesitate to end him… maybe not while all the feds were watching, but he'd take care of him when he least expected it and I didn't want that on my friends conscience.

Barry's eyes oozed hatred as he leaned around Hector, stabbing his finger at me. Hector made a guttural sound that would have sent any sane person scurrying for cover. "I knew you were hiding something." Barry tilted his head studying me as if I were an unidentified specimen on a laboratory slide. "Care to tell me how that man down there came to be shackled and beaten to a bloody pulp?" When I didn't answer, he sneered. "Cat got your tongue… Princess?"

Time stood still.

Blood pumped within my veins, booming in my ears like pounding drums. _"__I've been waiting my whole life for you, my Princess."_

All I could hear was Durant proclaiming his love for me and I wanted to be sick. With that one word, Barry had managed to open every scabbed over wound Durant had inflicted. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." He grabbed my hand, trying to put his cuffs on me.

I blinked and gasped for breath as Barry's angry face faded away and was slowly replaced with Durant's. I saw Durant's hand flying through the air and knew the belt was going to slice me any second. I growled like a cornered dog. "Don't fucking touch me!" I clawed at his wrist and jerked away before falling to my knees, pressing my forehead against a layer of brittle pine needles. I rocked back and forth, releasing a keening sound from deep within.

"Cupcake, can you hear me?"

I heard Joe calling to me from a distance, but I couldn't be sure it was actually him. It could be a trick. "Joe?" I whispered.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's me." I heard the love in his voice, and slowly turned my head towards him. He was kneeling beside me, hesitantly reaching for my hand. "Can I help you up?"

I jerked my hand away, vehemently shaking my head. "You left me down there. I thought you came to save me, but you left me down there." I swiped at my tears. "Why would you do that?"

His brows wrinkled in confusion. "I'd never leave you in a place like that," he spoke softly. "I looked everywhere for you. We all did, but we couldn't find you."

He was lying. Durant had told me that no one was looking for me. "You did leave me." I was emphatic as I cried and held out my bandaged wrists. "I begged you to take the chains off, and you just yelled at me. You said it was my fault, but it wasn't."

"You're confused, Steph." He frowned as he calmly explained. "I'd have come to you in a heartbeat if I'd known where you were." He rubbed my back and I winced.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

He jerked his hand away as if he'd been burned.

"I want to go home." My body wracked with sobs.

From my other side, Ranger said, "Babe, is if okay if I touch you?"

I reached out to touch Ranger's forearm to see if he was real. "Did you come to save me?"

"I tried to find you." He sounded full of pain.

"It was all a dream, wasn't it?" I clutched his hand as tears rolled down my cheeks. "I didn't make it out of there." I sobbed harder. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

His eyes softened. "No, Babe, you're not dead. You escaped from that place."

"Are you sure?" I asked in a tiny voice. "I really got away?"

"You called me, and I came to get you."

"Promise?"

"I never lie to you." He picked me up like a child and I didn't resist. As he walked toward the UTV's, Barry came up on his side.

"It appears someone's gotten her _'memory'_ back," Barry sneered and started clapping. "Nice performance by the way, but I'm not going to let you get away with murder, Stephanie—no matter how good of an actress you are. I know you're responsible for chaining that man up. His death is on your hands and I'm going to make sure you pay."

"Get him out of my face," Ranger said to Agent Kinkade. She tried to block Barry, but he sidestepped around her and kept coming. Ranger softly whispered in my ear, "Don't say another word, Babe." Barry had no choice but to stop when the Merry Men surrounded him. Ranger kept walking as he yelled over his shoulder to Barry, "She won't be saying another word without her lawyer present."

"Better get him here quick then," he poked his head around the wall of Merry Men, "because the Special Agent in Charge is on his way and he'll have her squealing like a stuck pig in no time."

Barry stomped back over to the cellar opening while Ranger sat me down inside the UTV. "You okay?" he asked.

I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my coat as Joe slid inside the vehicle on the other side. He put his hand on my shoulder and when I didn't resist, he pulled me into him, cradling me. I could tell Ranger didn't want to leave me, but since he didn't want to witness a tender moment between Joe and I, he reluctantly shut the door and walked away, leaving me and Joe alone in the backseat.

Joe's face looked stricken. Things were starting to make sense to me again and I was ashamed of the things I'd accused him of. I put my arms around him, hugging him as hard as my injuries would allow. He tenderly hugged me back. "Do you really believe I would leave you down there?"

"No." I was ashamed that I'd thought him capable of hurting me in that way. "I'm sorry, Joe," I whispered into his neck. "I was confused. I had so many nightmares while I was down there. After a while, it was hard to know what was real and what wasn't." I sniffed. "I was afraid everyone had forgotten about me."

"That would never happen." His voice broke with emotion. "You are unforgettable. You have no idea how much I love you, Cupcake. No idea at all."

"I love you too, Joe."

* * *

Since the Special Agent in Charge was coming from the Newark field office, we had at least an hour and a half before he was set to arrive. The wait was doing nothing to help my anxiety. From the things Barry had said about his boss, he was going to come in here and take one look at me before throwing me in jail. Most likely, he wouldn't even stop to ask my side of the story. He'd believe whatever Barry told him and that didn't bode well for me.

Within the hour, forensic technicians and more FBI agents had arrived, bringing equipment by the truckloads and setting up two enclosed tents powered with generators to serve as command centers. One tent housed all the technical equipment and was presumably where the evidence would be cataloged. Hector and I were sitting in the other tent where agents in white Tyvek suits huddled around coffee urns and allowed themselves a few minutes of respite from the cold before they had to go back out.

Ranger had insisted I needed to eat and in order to entice me to do so, he had sent Cal on a food run. As I forced small bites of the roast beef sandwich down my throat, I tried my best to ignore the curious glances from the agents as they spoke in hushed tones. Some were more blatant than others, but the consensus seemed to be that I was guilty of murder. The thought of strangers judging me, not to mention going through a grueling interview about my time in the cellar had my nerves buzzing with dread.

I wasn't aware of my foot was tapping the ground until Hector put his hand on my knee, lending a sense of calm. "Everything will be okay, Angelita." I gave him a humorless smile. His attempt at putting me at ease was endearing, but he wouldn't be able to save me from prison, and that's where Barry seemed determined to put me.

The sound of a loud engine drew my attention. I looked through the open tent flap, noting the bright red truck as it parked behind a sea of black SUV's. It didn't surprise me to see Cyrus step out and head for Ranger who was talking with Joe and Agent Kinkade close to the cellar door. He talked with them for a few minutes and then he and Ranger headed in my direction.

"How are you doing, Stephanie?" Cyrus asked. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was fine, but everyone knew that I was far from, 'fine.' "It's time we talked, don't you think?" I gave him a thin smile. He looked around and made a face as if he wasn't pleased with his choices. He looked outside and come to some sort of decision. "Let's find a place we can speak privately," he said.

Knowing I'd put off the inevitable for as long as I could, I slowly got to my feet. Ranger stared after me as I followed Cyrus to his truck; the only place that offered any privacy. After he started the engine and turned on the heater, he pulled a yellow legal pad and a pen out of his briefcase. Once he was ready, he faced me. "I'm assuming you have your memory back. Is that correct?" I nodded and he studied me for a moment, his face unreadable and then he said, "Agent Hobbs is telling anyone that will listen that you killed the man in the cellar." He paused for a moment, gauging my reaction. "Did you?"

"I know that Ranger is the one paying you, but I need to know if you are going to share anything I say with him or the feds?"

"It's true that Carlos is footing the bill, but I work for you. What you tell me is privileged information. I would lose my license if I repeat a single word to anyone."

There was something honest about him and I just had this feeling that I could trust him, but what would he say when he learned I was a murderer? Would he be horrified? Would he refuse to represent me? I brushed the doubt aside. The fact was, I needed help and he was the best. I took a deep breath. "Yes, I killed him," I said without any guilt. It felt good to say it out loud, but I stayed silent about the women. I wasn't sure how much he knew.

He didn't recoil or run from the truck screaming. He simply asked, "Was he the man who kidnapped and kept you prisoner?"

"Yes."

He took a deep breath and spoke in a serious but gentle tone. "I want you to tell me everything that happened, in as much detail as you can, starting from the time you suspected you had a stalker. Leave nothing out, not even if it embarrasses you or makes you look guilty. My job isn't to judge, but to protect you… at all costs. Got it!"

I nodded and told him my story.

Every.

Last.

Detail.

I looked out the window as I spoke, recalling the events of the last few weeks. Occasionally, I would glance back to gauge his reactions. In the beginning, he tried to keep his face professionally blank, but as the story unfolded, he couldn't stop the horror and pity that crossed his face. I tried to stay detached and not to let his reactions affect me. In fact, listening to me recount my story; one might think it all happened to someone else.

When I finished, he said, "That's truly horrific," then he paused and looked down as if he was uncomfortable, but when his eyes came back to mine, he was all business. "The state of New Jersey considers what he did to you to be first-degree sexual assault since it was committed during a kidnapping."

"You misunderstand." I shook my head adamantly. "He didn't rape me."

"What you described **is** rape. You might not see it that way, but the law is clear on this matter."

"But he never—" I turned away, staring out the passenger window as I tried to explain. "He was never able to put his… inside me."

"Understandably, this is a distressing topic, and I'm sorry we must talk about it, but sexual assault does not necessarily mean penile penetration. It includes oral sex and penetration of any kind, whether it is a finger or an object."

I felt my face turning red. This was one of the most uncomfortable things I've ever endured, but I listened to what he had to say, hoping he was wrong. It somehow made it easier to deal with if I didn't have to put that label on it. "It doesn't matter." I faced him again, trying to make him understand. "I won't be telling the FBI or anyone else those details. Ever!"

He sat up straighter, clutching the pen in his hand as he paused from taking notes. "You have a Federal Agent out for blood, ready to arrest you for murder. We need to give them every reason to sympathize with you."

I met his gaze head on. "My answer is not going to change, Cyrus. If you don't want to represent me, I understand. But I won't tell anyone he did those things to me." I moved to open the door to get out.

"I'm not going anywhere, Stephanie." He reached his hand out to stop me. "There's just one thing I need to confirm." I pulled my leg back in and shut the door, waiting. "Was your kidnapper alive when you left him chained up?"

I nodded as I swallowed slowly, feeling the bile rising in the back of my throat. "I didn't check his pulse or anything, but when I left, his chest was still moving—barely." I looked down at my fingers clasped in my lap, catching sight of the cast. Anger struck me hard and fast. Because of Durant I was forced to break my own bones to get free from him. "I only intended to hit him hard enough to disable him and get out of the chains, but once I started, I… I couldn't stop."

He nodded in understanding. "And you were unable to tell anyone what happened because you were sedated for the first three days in the hospital?"

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed in curiosity. "When did your memories start coming back? I'm assuming it was before today."

I chewed on my bottom lip and looked over at him. "I never had a problem with my memory."

"You pretended to have memory loss so you wouldn't have to tell them where the cellar was and save his life." He was stating the facts as he saw them, not a question. I knew this was going to make me look bad, but I had no empathy for Hunter Durant. What that man put me and the other women through was nothing compared to what he got in return. As far as I was concerned, I did the world a favor when I placed him in the chains of his own making.

"Am I going to jail?"

Instead of answering, he had one final question. "Is anyone else aware of what you did?"

"No."

"Keep it that way." After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Cyrus turned to me and said, "You did well in the previous interview. You were careful not to lie to the federal agents, but this interview is going to be more intense and they will need to have their questions answered satisfactorily. If they think you're hiding something, this could go badly for you. I want you to answer their questions honestly. If you become uncomfortable, and do not wish to answer the question, clasp your hands together like you're doing right now. That will tell me that I need to stop that line of questioning." He took a breath and looked out the windshield for a moment before coming back to me. "I want to be clear. Lying to a federal agent carries a maximum penalty of five years in prison, but if you follow my directions, you should come out of this without serving time."


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

**Time to Face the Music **

Cyrus and I made our way back to the tent in time to see two black SUV's pull up and park. A tall man with salt and pepper hair exited the first car as well as three other agents, all dressed in dark suits and overcoats. Four more agents got out of the second car, two men and two women. They all hastily moved toward the taped off area around the cellar. It was apparent from the way the taller man carried himself and the way everyone suddenly appeared busy as he passed by that he was the one in charge—the one we'd been waiting for.

As soon as Barry saw his boss, he ended his conversation with his fellow agents and jogged over to him. You could practically see the star struck twinkle in his eyes as he looked up at the older man. While Barry talked, his hands made sweeping motions and then he pointed over at me. There was no doubt in my mind he was convincing his boss to throw the book at me.

The Agent in Charge didn't seem to be basking in Barry's adoration. In fact, he turned away from him mid-speech and addressed Agent Kinkade, seeming to prefer her. He listened intently to what she had to say, but he was staring at me, sizing me up. Once she finished speaking, the three of them disappeared down the stairs of the cellar.

It seemed like they were down there forever, but it was probably around ten minutes. Their faces were somber when they reemerged and started in my direction. My muscles stiffened; fight or flight impulse threatened to take over, but I held my ground. Hector must have sensed my fear because his arm came around me just when I needed the added strength.

"You're okay, Stephanie," Joe said from behind me and then I felt Ranger's hand clasp mine, intertwining our fingers. These men—my friends—were offering me a wall of strength. I stood a little taller.

The man that had been eyeing me with enough scrutiny to send me running, was now standing a mere three feet in front of me with Agent Kinkade and Barry flanking him. A triumphant smirk crossed Barry's face. He finally had reinforcement and was confident his boss was going to back him up.

My palms started to sweat.

Up close, I could tell that he was an attractive man, probably in his mid-forties. His hair was parted on the side and smoothed down. His suit was black and tailored to his fit body. He appeared polished… dignified. If there was ever a man who played by the rules, this was him. "Good afternoon, Ms. Plum, I'm Special Agent in Charge, Timothy Shaw." He held his hand out to me, his presence commanding respect. "I'm sorry for what you've endured."

I was sure he could feel the dampness on my palm as we shook. After he released my hand, Cyrus extended his for further introduction. "Cyrus Fusco, attorney for Ms. Plum."

"I know who you are." He raked his eyes over Cyrus, clearly irritated. "But your presence is unnecessary, Ms. Plum is not under arrest."

"You lawyered up fast." Barry leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's what guilty people do."

Cyrus tipped his head in Barry's direction. "That is the reason for my presence. It seems your agent is holding an adolescent grudge against my client. As I'm sure you've been made aware, Ms. Plum's doctor has filed a grievance report with your office against Agent Hobbs. While trying to ascertain what happened to my client during the time she was missing, your agent has verbally harassed her, threatened her with arrest, and put his hands on her in her weakened condition." While Cyrus calmly stated all of Barry's transgressions, Barry's face was getting redder and the vein in his neck was starting to pulse with rage. "And, after witnessing his idea of an _'interview,_' I'd say Ms. Plum could use an advocate."

Agent Shaw's jaw tightened, making his aristocratic features appear hard as nails. "I have been made aware of the situation, Ms. Plum, and I apologize for Agent Hobbs' treatment of you. I would like to emphasize that you are not under arrest; you are a victim who can provide valuable eyewitness testimony. I hope you will cooperate fully."

"That is my clients wish, but she will also be invoking her right to counsel," Cyrus said.

"It is your right to have counsel present," Agent Shaw conceded even though he clearly didn't want Cyrus there. "I'm told you might be able to shed some light on what's down in that cellar?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Cyrus put his hand on my shoulder, and I cleared my throat to try again. "Yes, sir."

"Good. We need to get your statement on record." He turned to Agent Kinkade. "Is the interview area set up?"

Before Agent Kinkade could answer, Barry stepped closer to me, fists clenched and icy stare in place. "Now you decide to talk. You could have done that days ago, and maybe that man would be alive. But dead men can't talk, isn't that right _Ms. Plum_?"

My temper sparked. I really hated it when he called me Ms. Plum.

"For all we know, you played a part in what happened down there and then you murdered that man so he couldn't contradict your claim of innocence." Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on my cheek. I had to cross my hands over my chest to keep from smacking him across the face.

I tried to stand there and take his verbal abuse, but after holding my tongue while being forced to listen to Durant's hateful ramblings, I just couldn't do it again. It was like a cork popping out of a bottle of champagne. I blew. "You, arrogant prick."

"You've been lying through your teeth from the start." His voice got louder, dripping with contempt.

I didn't have to listen to Barry fucking Hobbs, I reminded myself. I'm Stephanie Plum. I'm a survivor. I squared my shoulders and dismissed him with a wave of my hand as I calmly addressed Agent Shaw. "Arrest me if you have too, but I'm not saying another word as long as he's present. If you want my statement, he needs to go. Nothing you can do to me will be worse than what has already happened." At this point, I didn't care if I went to prison, I just wanted Barry gone.

While Agent Shaw studied me carefully, Barry stood at his side, glaring at me with a smug smile on his face. He was sure of his place in the pecking order. After what seemed like an eternity, Agent Shaw gave a slight nod and then turned to Barry. "Agent Hobbs, head back to the main office for reassignment."

Barry's eyes bulged as he tore them away from me. "What!"

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. He'd been so sure Agent Shaw would be on his side he hadn't given any thought of the fall out of his actions.

"You heard me, Agent." A smart man wouldn't have questioned Agent Shaw, not when he was speaking in that tone. I imagine he could make Barry's professional life a living hell.

Barry turned back to me, lips curled and nostril's flaring like a bull getting ready to charge at a red cape. "You bitch!"

Hector growled and loosened his arms from around me, ready to shut him up. I had to pull on him to get him to stand down.

"You think you can snap your fingers and get me off this case." He looked around at all the agents, including Agent's Shaw and Kinkade before landing back on me. "Why am I the only one who can see you for the liar you are?"

His face turned red, reminding me of the old cartoons where steam came out of the character's head right before they exploded. A laugh escaped. I couldn't help it.

"You're crazy!" he said. "Anybody who was a part of that shit show down there has to be messed up!"

"You want to talk about messed up?" I laughed harder. It wasn't appropriate for the situation, but I couldn't help myself. They could judge me all they wanted. They hadn't lived with a psychopath for weeks. I shook my head from side to side and snarled. "You're pathetic. You've been fixated on me for years because I rejected you." I lifted my chin. "You're a narcissist and maybe even a psychopath like _him_." I pointed toward the cellar. "How you were able to pass the psychological evaluation to get such an important job is beyond my comprehension. You have no compassion… and no idea what I've been through, and I'm not going to listen to another man tell me **shit**."

"Is there something about your orders that isn't clear Agent Hobbs?" Agent Shaw was a commanding man, used to having his orders obeyed without question. Right now, they were being challenged in front of his subordinates and he wasn't happy.

"No, sir!" Barry's tone was mocking as he gave me a final once over. With fisted hands, he turned to walk away, muttering something about 'that crazy bitch.' I wanted to give him the finger. But with Special Agent in Charge Shaw standing in front of me, I was trying to project a ladylike demeanor or at least as ladylike as this Jersey girl could manage.

One of the other agents approached Agent Shaw and spoke quietly to him. When they were finished, Agent Shaw turned to me. "I'd like to record your statement if that's alright?" When I nodded, he continued. "I thought we could begin your interview inside the tent."

"That's highly unusual," Cyrus said, "shouldn't we go to the area field office where it's more comfortable and private?"

"I agree that these are unusual circumstances, but I can't leave the scene until it's been cleared. However, I'd like to begin understanding what transpired down there. I've requested a comfortable area be set up inside the tent where it's warmer. Mr. Fusco, Ms. Plum, follow me please." He started walking toward the evidence tent, head high and taking in everything around him.

I tried to follow, honest, I did. But I couldn't get my legs to move. I was starting to sweat in uncomfortable places. I didn't think I could tell them what Durant had done… not with Joe and Ranger listening. The thought of their pity was too much to bear. But I needed someone who cared about me and who would be on my side no matter what. Hector tightened his grasp on my hand at the same time I met his eyes, pleading with him to come with me. I knew he wasn't a fan of law enforcement and this was asking a lot, but I needed him.

When Agent Kinkade noticed we weren't following, she put her hand on Agent Shaw's elbow to get his attention. He turned and raised his eyebrow in question. "Problem?"

"I'd like my friend Hector to come with me." I held up our joined hands.

"Is he also a witness?"

"No."

"Another lawyer perhaps?"

"No."

"Then he'll need to remain here with the others." He was satisfied his orders would be carried out and once again set off for the tents. When he noticed we weren't following, he turned again. "Is there another problem?" he patiently asked.

I squeezed Hector's hand and with my eyes tried to convey the importance of my request to Agent Shaw. "I need him with me."

He paused for a moment and then gave a curt nod of acquiescence before he set off for the tent again.

* * *

The dried pine needles crunching under our feet broke through the eerie silence as we walked toward the evidence tent. That unshakeable sense of foreboding I'd been struggling to keep at bay was buzzing inside me like a swarm of killer bees. In a matter of minutes, I would be forced to confront the monster that turned my life upside down. Everyone would know what happened to me, down to the tiniest of details. My instincts screamed at me to flee, but I couldn't. I wouldn't. This was happening whether I wanted it to or not.

My doubts and fears were swirling around in my head. I tried to conjure pleasant thoughts, but nothing came to mind. Happiness seemed so long ago, like it belonged to another person in another life.

I knew Joe and Ranger were following behind. They had been patiently waiting for me to tell them what happened in the cellar. I'd shared my body with each of them, but they both managed to keep their deep dark secrets from me and now I didn't feel comfortable sharing mine with them.

As we passed the hatch, I glanced over and froze. The crime scene techs were bringing up a black body bag. I knew it was Durant. I could feel his evil all around me—even in death. Hector put his arm around me as they carried Durant's body past us and into the tent. I stood outside the flap, unable to go inside with—_him._

The sound of horrified gasps brought me out of my daze. When I turned back to the cellar, I saw the top of a glass case slowly emerging out of the ground with a pulley system. As the case got higher, I was able to make out the skull of the woman and knew it was Jenny. I turned away, unable to look at her deteriorated body in the light of day.

I could feel the weight of Joe and Ranger's curious eyes, but I kept my head down unable to meet them. My emotions were so raw, I was afraid they'd be able to see through the flimsy façade I was putting up. If I let them see even a little of my pain, it would be all over for me. I'd break down into a useless sobbing mess.

As if we were part of a funeral procession, everyone parted to make a path, allowing the forensic investigators to carry Jenny into the tent and set her case in an upright position on a blue tarp. It disgusted me to see her housed in the same space as Durant. She deserved to be free from his presence.

They barely had time to release the ropes from the case before another round of gasps went out. We all stood in reverent silence as Sharon's case appeared next. With each new body, tensions rose higher. I felt the bystanders questioning gazes penetrating my battle-scarred skin. Some of the truly hardcore observers were outwardly nonplussed, professional under the worst of circumstances while they talked quietly about how big this case was going to be.

The others wore pained faces, internalizing the atrocities these women suffered, taking them to heart as if it had happened to one of their own loved ones.

Ranger, Joe, and the rest of the Merrymen alternated between watching my reactions as each woman emerged and trying to maintain their blank faces. At one point or another, they all failed. It was stupid to think nothing would faze them, but that's what I had thought—before.

An invisible weight had settled over everyone. By the time they brought Melissa up I wasn't sure I was going to be able to talk about what happened anymore. My throat felt like it was getting tighter and tighter, until I feared I'd choke. Just as I resolved to go into the tent and get this over with, the top of another case peeked out of the hatch. At first, I was confused. There had only been eight women, but then I remembered _my_ case.

Everyone thought it was just another random woman, but when it was hoisted high enough for everyone to see it was empty, all heads swung toward me.

Joe's chest rose and fell as he took deep panicked breaths. For once, his face told me everything he was thinking. He knew whose case that was supposed to be, and he desperately wanted to grab me up and take me home, but I turned away. I didn't want to see his compassion. Not while I still had to finish this.

Ranger was less obvious. He had his blank face in place, hiding his emotions from everyone present, but I saw the pain and regret and other things I'd probably never know because he'd never tell me.

"This way, please," Agent Shaw said from behind me.

Before I could move, Morelli asked, "As a courtesy to the Trenton PD and as a part of the task force organized to find Stephanie, I'd like to sit in on her interview."

Agent Shaw thought about it for a moment and said, "Detective Morelli, Mr. Manoso, you are both welcome to join us, but only as observers." I tried not to let my displeasure show. I didn't want Ranger or Joe listening as I gave my statement, but after everything they'd done to find me, I couldn't very well shut them out.

One of the agents held the tent flap as we were ushered inside. The canvas sides provided an illusion of privacy, but you could still hear noises from outside and see the feet of those walking by. Several utility lights were stationed at various points making the area bright enough to see clearly. Hector, Cyrus and I were shown to a six-foot folding table where we were invited to sit, facing away from the black body bag and glass cases lining one side of the canvas wall.

There was a video camera set up on the other side of the table, aimed at me. This was more formal than I'd anticipated.

Ranger and Joe waited until I was seated before they each grabbed a folding chair and set them up along the back wall of the tent where they were out of view of the camera but could still hear and see everything that took place.

Two gas-powered heaters were set up in each corner of the tent, making the area a little too warm. I shrugged my coat off and put it on the back of my chair. Hector and Cyrus did the same. I clutched Hector's hand under the table, trying to project a calm demeanor as Agents Shaw and Kinkade took their seats across from us and got comfortable. Agent Shaw had several blue folders in front of him and Agent Kinkade had her laptop open and ready.

"Excuse me, Sir." A forensic tech handed Agent Shaw another file. We waited patiently while he read through its contents.

"The unknown male's prints didn't match anything in AIFIS?" he asked the tech.

"No sir," she replied.

I knew from my job as a bounty hunter that prints were only entered into the system if you had some type of job that required you to be printed or you had been arrested before. It didn't surprise me that Durant had no priors. He was meticulous and single minded in his pursuit. He would have made sure his tracks were covered.

"But we **were** able to match them with the partial print lifted from the pen Ms. Plum's mother gave us," she added.

My mom gave them a pen from Durant? How?

"What about the female victims? Have you been able to get an ID on any of them?"

"Sir, most of the bodies are so badly decomposed that printing will be difficult if not impossible. We'll need to use DNA analysis to make identifications on those. We can get prints from the more recent bodies, but it's my recommendation we wait until I get them back to the lab before opening the cases. Exposing the bodies to air will degrade the evidence."

The lines between Agent Shaw's forehead deepened. "How long will it take to get an ID?"

"Could be tomorrow. We have a lot to process and it'll take time to remove the bodies without damaging the evidence."

"Leave the cases here while you finish cataloging what's in the cellar. Once everything's back at the lab, I want those prints ASAP."

"Yes, Sir." Like a well-trained soldier, she returned to work.

Agent Shaw pressed the button on the video camera. "Today is Wednesday, January 30." He checked his watch. "It's 1:25 pm. I am Special Agent in Charge Timothy Shaw and with me is Special Agent Piper Kinkade, lawyer for the witness, Cyrus Fusco, Detective Joe Morelli, Trenton PD, and Carlos Manoso. Also, at the request of Ms. Plum for moral support, Hector—" He looked over at Hector, waiting for him to supply his last name.

Hector leaned forward and said, "Sanchez."

"Please state your full name for the record," Agent Shaw said to me.

I leaned forward in my seat, enunciating my name clearly. "Stephanie Michelle Plum." I sat back and watched as he shuffled the folders in front of him. He was wearing a golden band on his finger. His wife must be a strong woman to be involved with someone in law enforcement. I knew from experience the hours sucked and the worry… well it wasn't an easy job for the spouse. But I got the impression this was more than a job to him. He wasn't just a cog in the bureaucratic machine; his motivation was getting justice for those who'd been wronged.

"Is that necessary?" Cyrus' voice shocked me back to reality. I turned to see what had made him angry.

Agent Shaw addressed me. "Do you understand your rights as they have been read to you?"


	36. Chapter 36

**CHAPTER 36**

**Karma's A Bitch**

My rights?

I hadn't heard a word Agent Shaw had said. I looked to Cyrus to see what was going on. His eyes stayed on mine a beat longer than necessary, warning me that this was more serious than he'd first thought and to be careful.

"Is my client under arrest?"

"This is just a formality. We need to do everything by the book," Agent Shaw explained.

Cyrus turned back to me and tipped his head, indicating it was okay for me to answer.

"Do you understand your rights as they have been read to you?" Agent Shaw asked. I looked at him and nodded. "I need a verbal answer, Ms. Plum.

I cleared my throat and said, "Yes."

"Ms. Plum, can you identify the man we found shackled in the cellar?"

He certainly didn't waste time getting to the point and that was fine with me. The quicker I told him what he needed to know, the sooner I'd be able to get the hell out of here. Plus, I owed it to the women to tell their stories one last time. I met his eyes head on, imploring him to understand. "The last thing I want to do is relive what happened in the cellar, but I realize that eight women are dead, and you need answers." I swallowed to ease the knot forming in my throat. "It'll be easier for me if I start at the beginning and tell you what I know about each of the women. When I'm finished, I'll answer any questions you have."

I could tell he was debating on whether he'd get more information by letting me speak in my own time or demanding my cooperation by doing things his way. While he deliberated, I got to my feet and calmly walked over to the table where the black body bag lay. The closer I got, the more intense the putrid smell became. My stomach started doing summersaults, threatening to eject the small bits of roast beef I'd eaten for lunch. I swallowed hard and surveyed the black plastic. A strange feeling of detachment came over me. I felt oddly peaceful as I reached for the zipper, needing to see for myself that he was dead.

The forensic tech made a choking sound. "You can't touch that," she said as she glanced back at the agents for reinforcement.

I pulled my hands back but didn't take my eyes off the bag. "I need to see," I explained.

Agent Shaw must have given his okay because the tech began sliding the zipper down. The sound of the metal teeth separating, triggered a flash of Durant sitting in his chair, lowering the zipper of his jeans to pleasure himself at our expense. I shivered and pushed the thought away. First his forehead was revealed and then his nose and then his chin. My throat filled with bile as the stench of foul-smelling flesh wafted through the plastic opening. I put my casted hand over my mouth as a barrier even though it did little to help.

His face was pale and swollen, mottled with bruises. His once disturbingly handsome visage was no more, but I could still tell it was him. I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding. He was just an abandoned vessel with no power to hurt me anymore. It was finally over. But I was going to make sure I got the last word. I leaned down and whispered. "Sleep tight, Princess." When I straightened, it was with renewed vigor. "Thank you," I murmured to the lab tech to let her know that I was finished. As she zipped the bag, I turned back around and did my best to forget he ever existed.

I didn't want to see their reactions, but I couldn't stop myself. I glanced behind agent's Kinkade and Shaw and saw that Ranger and Joe were looking at me with expressions of sympathy and compassion. I couldn't stand their pity, so I looked away.

I raised my voice, speaking clearly enough that Agent Shaw could hear me from his seat behind the table. "His name was Hunter Durant." All eyes were on me except for Agent Kinkade. While she presumably typed Durant's name into her computer, I squared my shoulders and continued. "He was born and raised in a coal mining town in Western Pennsylvania."

Agent Shaw's eyes widened for a moment and then he leaned over to quietly confer with Agent Kinkade. Her fingers sped over the keyboard as he spoke to her. When her fingers stopped, she read the screen, surprise coloring her cheeks. "There's a thirty-four-year-old Hunter Durant from Johnstown, Pennsylvania." She tilted her computer so he could see. After he read the screen, he motioned for her to take the computer over to me. "Is this the same man?" she asked while holding the device in front of me.

The screen showed a picture of him that must have been taken several years ago because he appeared younger. Innocent. I couldn't stop staring. He was so attractive his face could've been splashed across the cover of magazines. I was having a hard time reconciling this man with the one who terrorized me, but it was him, there was no doubt in my mind. "Yes, that's him," I told her.

While she went back to her seat, I moved in front of the first glass case. I knew this was Jenny because she was wearing a faded yellow dress and was the most decomposed of all the women. Based on the dates he'd given me, I did a quick calculation in my head, and found that she'd been dead for more than twelve years. I dug what was left of my fingernails into my palms as I stared at her. Angry tears threatened and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep them at bay. Out of all the women, I had a soft spot for Jenny. She'd been a kid when she died. It wasn't fair. She'd never get to fall in love, get married, or have children. All because Durant needed her to love him. Against my will, tears slipped out anyway and I angrily wiped them away.

During the month I was in the cellar, I'd been more terrified than I could ever recall. I couldn't imagine how Jenny had felt. It made me want to kill Durant all over again. I looked over at his body bag, rage burning hotter than fire. The beating I'd given him seemed like nothing in comparison to what he'd done to us. My hands itched for a belt—a bat—a knife. One swing wouldn't be enough.

I knew I had to give the feds all the information I had about the women but opening my mouth to speak was harder than I thought. "This is the first girl he abducted. Her name is Jenny Pucket." My voice cracked and I had to pause. I looked down at the ground, clenching and unclenching my fists. _Get it together, Stephanie. Jenny's counting on you to tell her story one last time. _I cleared my throat and continued. "She was sixteen-years-old and living in Drakesboro, Kentucky."

Agent Kinkade busily typed away at her computer. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know she was searching her databanks for a missing girl named Jenny.

I'd been so focused on what Agent Kinkade was doing that I jumped when a voice sounded in my ear. "Are you okay, Stephanie?" Cyrus pushed a handkerchief into my hand. "We can request a break whenever you need it."

"I'm fine." I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. "Thank you."

I tried giving the monogrammed cloth back to him, but he shook his head and patted my hand in a grandfatherly way. "Keep it," he said and went back to his seat.

"Sir," Agent Kinkade said to Agent Shaw. "Missing persons has a Jenny Pucket that disappeared in 2005."

Agent Shaw nodded, but didn't take his steady gaze off me. "What else can you tell us about this victim?" he asked me.

I didn't have to think; I knew their stories by heart. "She'd just gotten her first job working at the Dairy Queen when Durant stopped in for a blizzard. She took his order and he became fixated on her. He waited around until she got off work, and then he followed her. It was hot and she was tired of walking. He pulled over and offered her a ride home. As soon as she got in his car, he drugged her, and brought her to the cellar where he kept her alive for sixteen months."

"Do you know how he drugged her?"

"He put a sedative in his fountain drink. By the time he pulled up beside her, she was tired and thirsty. She took the ride and the drink." My anger spiked. Jenny had made a horrible mistake by trusting a stranger, but she hadn't deserved to pay for it with her life.

"Sixteen months is a long time," Agent Shaw stated. "Do you know what made him decide to finally kill her?"

"He didn't give a specific reason, but I think, in his mind, he was giving her time to fall in love with him. She was probably able to fool him for a while, but I guess it wasn't long enough. And then he stopped feeding her."

"This all happened fourteen years ago. How do you know the specific details?" Agent Shaw asked.

I let my eyes fan along the glass cases, vacantly staring at the carnage that one man wrought. It took a moment for my anger to recede enough for me to speak. Everyone remained still as they waited for me to continue. "He shared the stories of how he met and fell in love with each of his wives. It was part of his game."

"Game?" Agent Shaw asked as he leaned forward with his elbows on the table.

I chewed on the inside of my jaw while staring at my feet. I was in full support for getting justice for the women, but I wasn't keen on spilling too many of my own personal details. What was the point? It wasn't like anything I said was going to magically change what happened. Durant wasn't going to be put on trial, and he wasn't going to be sentenced according to how awful his crimes were. He was already dead. He'd paid his final price and it was finished. I cleared my throat and lifted my head high. "Every time he came to visit, he would make me recite their love stories. When I got something wrong or out of order, he'd hit me with his belt."

I heard soft growls and cursing coming from the back of the tent. I couldn't bring myself to look in Ranger and Joe's direction. I waited for Agent Shaw to ask another question and when none came, I stepped in front of the next case and told Sharon's story. By the time I stepped in front of the third case, the tent was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"This is Ashley Allen." I blinked back tears, my voice raw and cracking as I spoke. "She was eating lunch with a group of nursing friends in a restaurant in the Butler University Student Center. Durant was sitting at a nearby table. He hadn't been looking for a replacement for Sharon, but when he heard Ashley laughing, he was drawn to her. That was on October 11, 2009." I took a cleansing breath and dried the last of my tears. "She was with him in the cellar for three months."

Agent Kinkade typed furiously on her computer and then suddenly stopped. I didn't know what she was viewing on her screen, but whatever it was had prompted her to sit up and take note. She leaned to the side, whispering to Agent Shaw, then turned her computer so he could see. His somber expression turned to amazement as his eyes moved over the screen. They silently communicated with one another and then their eyes flashed to me. Before I knew what was happening, Agent Shaw was in front of me. "What exactly did he tell you about Ashley Allen?"

His single-minded focus made my throat go dry and my breathing accelerate. "Only that he followed her for a couple days to learn her routine and then he abducted her from a parking lot after one of her classes."

"The other two had been drugged. Did he drug Ashley Allen as well?"

"He used some type of crushed sedative to drug Jenny and Sharon, but by the time he found Ashley, he'd learned a better way. From then on, he injected some kind of drug cocktail into our necks that immobilized us instantaneously."

"Do you know why he was at the college in Indianapolis?"

"Uh… he said he was meeting a guy at the student center to buy nitrogen gas."

"Why did he need the nitrogen gas?"

"To preserve the women's bodies," I told him.

"Where did he get the glass cases?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "Durant said the man who specially makes them thinks he uses them to display historical clothing. Like in a museum or something."

"What else can you tell me about Ashley Allen." I was getting irritated with all the questions. I wanted to know why Ashley was so important. What made her any different than Jenny or Sharon? "It's very important we get every detail," he reminded me.

I wasn't sure I could say it out loud, but they were going to find out one way or the other. "She was pregnant." The forensics techs had been quietly cataloging evidence, but after that announcement, all movement ground to a halt.

His voice was low and gravelly when he spoke. "Are you telling me he got her pregnant?"

I shook my head as tears rolled down my face. "She was already pregnant when he abducted her. He was furious when he found out. He wouldn't feed her anymore. When she begged for food, he punished her." I nearly choked on that last part. I took a moment to grieve for Ashley and once I was able to talk around the blockage in my throat, I continued. "She and her baby died of starvation four days later."

Agent Shaw's eyes darkened, but his voice turned softer. "How could he be certain the baby wasn't his?"

"Probably because he hadn't had sex with her," I calmly stated, keeping my eyes on him so I didn't have to endure the speculative glances from anyone else.

His eyes narrowed. "Did he tell you that?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"I just do." I shrugged and looked at the ground. I didn't want to talk about this anymore. Why couldn't he just take my word?

"Are you saying he never had sex with any of the women?"

I wish I could say that. I lifted my head, fighting the urge to groan. "I'm saying he didn't have sex with _Ashley_."

He waited, giving me a chance to add more and when I didn't, he blew out a sigh, frustrated that I wasn't being as forthcoming as he'd have liked. He turned back to the table, speaking to Agent Kinkade. "Get the Special Agent in Charge of the Indianapolis field office on the phone."

While Agent Kinkade waited for the call to connect, Cyrus handed me a bottle of water. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Agent Shaw disconnected the call and approached us. I straightened, letting my anger show. "What's going on? Why are you only interested in Ashley and not the others?"

He frowned at my judgmental tone and I wasn't sure if he was going to answer. "It's not that we think Ashley Allen is more important than the other victims, but we have more information on her because she's Indiana State Governor Gary Allen's niece."

I was stunned. _Governor?_ I wonder if Durant knew… or cared.

He barely gave me time to digest this new information before he started questioning me again. "Do you have any idea who the father of her baby might be?"

"No." I shook my head. "If Durant knew, he never told me, and I doubt he cared enough to ask."

"You may continue," Agent Shaw said before leaving me and Cyrus in front of the cases and taking his seat at the table once again.

"Would you like me to stay or head back to the table?" Cyrus asked.

"I'm okay."

For the next hour, I stood in front of each of the women and gave the agents a detailed account of everything I knew. After I finished, everyone in the room appeared ill. Their clinical objectiveness turned to deep sadness and it was suffocating me, making me feel even more exposed. I gave the women a final once-over, silently communicating my respect and hope that they could rest peacefully now.


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

**Take It to The Grave**

I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked back to the table. I tried to stifle my yawn as I took my seat, but it was no use. I was drained, both physically and mentally. I wanted to go home, but that wasn't going to happen until I gave them an account of all the things Durant had done to me and how I killed him, or at least what I was willing to share anyway.

"Excuse me, please," Agent Shaw said as he switched off the video camera and got up from the table. I turned in my chair and watched him walk over to the technicians, answering their questions and giving directions about the evidence they'd collected. After receiving their instructions, the technicians began removing Durant and the women's bodies from the tent.

"Are you doing okay, Stephanie?" Agent Kinkade asked. I turned back around but avoided looking at her or anyone else directly. She placed a bottle of water in front of me. "Can I get you anything else? I have a pack of cookies in my bag."

"I'm fine," I told her as Hector unscrewed the lid for me, and I took a drink. "I just want to get this over with."

"It's after four," Cyrus said as he looked at his watch. "How much longer will this take?"

"We're almost done," she said as she reached out and put her hand over mine in a show of comfort. "You've given us more information than we'd thought possible. Thanks to you, we'll be able to give his victims and their families something they've been waiting a long time for. Closure. After we finish today, I'll head back to the Newark office and type up your statement. You can have Mr. Fusco look it over and then when you sign it this will all be over. You can begin putting this ordeal behind you."

I knew she was trying to make things easier for me and I appreciated it, but I didn't think it was going to be possible to put everything that happened in the cellar behind me.

Agent Shaw took his seat again and after turning on the video camera, he gave a nod to Agent Kinkade for her to begin the rest of the interview. "You've told us about Hunter Durant and his interactions with the other women, but now we'd like to hear about your personal experience with him." She smiled encouragingly. "Start with the first thing you remember and if we have questions along the way, we'll ask."

Thinking about the terror I felt when I first woke up in the cellar made my chest tighten. I didn't want to lay my personal pain out for them to witness, but I also didn't want to go to jail for murder. I had to make them understand why I did what I did. I took a cleansing breath to calm my nerves. "When I first opened my eyes, I had no idea where I was. I was lying on a metal bed in a room that was pitch black and I was scared to death. As soon as I moved, I realized my wrists and ankles were shackled, and my neck had some sort of metal collar around it. At first, I thought I was alone, but then I heard someone breathing."

Hector slid a little closer to me and squeezed my hand. I took the comfort he offered and went on with my story. "Listening to someone breathing in the dark room terrified me. I had no idea who was in there with me. Then he turned on a lantern and I could see him sitting in a chair, watching me. He handed me a long white box with a dozen red roses and told me that he was in love with me. He said he'd been following me for weeks and that if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd—" My voice started to shake, so Hector put his arm around me for comfort. I had to force the muscles in my throat to relax before I could continue. "He threatened to bring my nieces to the cellar and hurt them as well as the rest of my family. The look on his face when he told me that… let's just say, I believed him. He bragged about breaking into my apartment, my family's homes, and even Joe's." I chanced a quick glance at Joe, noting his red face and tightly clenched fists.

My eyes traveled from Joe to Ranger. "He wanted to get into Rangeman, but there was too much security. It made him angry." There had only been a handful of times when I'd seen Ranger react emotionally, but right now he was just as angry as Joe.

Agent Kinkade leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. "Did you know Hunter Durant before you woke up in the cellar?"

I didn't want them to know I'd met him while buying ice cream. They might think I had done something to lead him on—that it was somehow my fault he became fixated on me. My answer was simple, "No."

"Maybe you came across him in your work as a bounty hunter?"

"No," I said, again.

"Why didn't you tell Detective Morelli or Mr. Manoso that you suspected you were being stalked? Surely, they would have investigated?"

I stared at the tabletop; suddenly interested in the faint design etched in the plastic. I didn't want to know if Joe or Ranger were disappointed or if they blamed me for what happened. I messed up. I should have known better. "I wasn't sure I was being stalked," I told her. "At the time, I only knew that things in my apartment were being moved around or were missing altogether. Joe was busy working a really big case out of town and with his stomach issues, I try not to worry him, and I wouldn't have bothered Ranger unless I was certain I had a stalker. He already does so much for me."

"Why you?" she asked. "Why did Hunter Durant pick you?" I asked myself that same question. What was it about me that attracted crazy people? Since I had no answer, I stayed silent. She worded her question differently. "You said Durant had been following you for weeks. Do you have any idea what triggered him to finally abduct you?"

"He got really angry when he found out that Joe and I had gone away for a few days. I think that was when he approached my mother in Giovincini's Deli. He was fishing for information about where I'd gone."

"How do you know he met with your mother?"

"He told me. He wanted to make sure I knew that no one was looking for me… that everyone had forgotten about me."

"You know that isn't true… right?" she asked.

"I do now, but… " I shrugged and looked down at my hands in my lap. "At the time, I thought maybe… "

Hector grabbed my hand. "I would never stop searching for you, Angelita."

I looked into his eyes. "I know that. I shouldn't have let Durant get in my head, but I was tired and hungry… "

Agent Kinkade tried to get the interview back on track. "Earlier, you stated you woke up in a dark room, lying on a metal bed. What happened after that?"

A sour taste filled my mouth when I imagined myself back there. "At first he tried being romantic by giving me roses." I kept my attention on Agent Kinkade, but from my periphery, I could see Ranger and Joe bristling with anger. "Mostly, he talked about his childhood. I had no idea the women were in there with us… not until he pulled the curtain back."

"We'll get to that in a minute. Right now, tell me how often he visited?"

"I'm not sure, but in the beginning, I think he visited once a day and stayed for several hours. But that all changed on New Year's Day."

"What happened that day?"

"I'd finally been reported missing and he thought it was funny it had taken so long for anyone to miss me." I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep the tears from falling. "He was laughing when he showed me the newspaper."

Hector's shoulders sagged and I knew he was feeling guilty for not noticing that I was missing sooner. I had to make him understand that it wouldn't have made a bit of difference. I was so well hidden that no one would have found me if I hadn't gotten away. "None of this is your fault," I whispered. He could barely meet my eyes, but I could see that he desperately wanted to believe me. I gave his hand a squeeze.

"Did he hurt you that day?" Agent Kinkade directed my attention back to the interview.

I swallowed past the constant pressure squeezing my throat, wishing I didn't have an audience for this part. "No, he didn't hurt me that day, but from then on, everything went badly."

"Besides being reported missing, what else changed that day?"

"I don't know. He just got this sad look in his eye and said that I wasn't **'The One.'**"I made air quotes around the phrase. "He seemed confused and angry that Emmie had gotten it all wrong."

Agent Shaw's brows furrowed. "Who's Emmie?"

"She was his twin sister. When they were ten years old, she fell into an abandoned mine shaft. She was missing for seven days before they found her, starved to death. He blamed himself because they had been playing and she'd wandered off." I paused to let that sink in. "We… the women and I, resemble his dead sister. At times, he would talk as if Emmie was alive. Several times, he got confused and called me by her name. I was never sure if I should go along with it or if doing so would make my situation worse."

Agent Kinkade's eyes widened. I don't think she was prepared for how much I knew about Durant's history. "What did he mean when he said, Emmie had been wrong about you being 'The One?'"

"I guess he meant his true love… soul mate… whatever." I shrugged. "He believed Emmie sent each of us to him." My voice had become detached—clinical. "He had issues. One minute he would yell at me and the next he would be kind."

"How long had you been in the cellar before you were aware of the other women?" Agent Shaw asked.

"The day he threw the newspaper at me, that was New Year's Day, he pulled the curtain back, and introduced me to his wives… my sisters. That's what he called the women. I'd known something was back there because I would see him go behind the curtain and could hear him talking in low tones, but I didn't know it was—" I cleared my throat, "them. I thought maybe he had another woman chained up back there and she was too weak to answer when I called out."

Agent Kinkade nodded her understanding. "What about his parents? What can you tell us about them?"

"After Emmie died, his parents sued the mining company and won a huge settlement. They were so caught up in their own grief, they just forgot he existed."

"Do you know how he found the cellar?" These questions were easy. I could talk about them all day. They didn't require laying my personal pain out for everyone to comment on.

"After his sister died, his father became an alcoholic and ended up getting into a car accident that killed himself and his wife. Durant went to live with his grandmother in the Pine Barrens. One day, he found the ruins of a burned down house and over the years he cleared the debris away. When he was twenty-one, he brought Jenny to the cellar."

"Tell me more about why he made you recite the stories of how he met each woman." Agent Shaw was asking me to help him understand Durant's psychosis. I had my theories, but that's all they were… theories.

"The same day that he declared I wasn't 'The One', he told me in detail everything about the women and his role in kidnapping them. He warned me to listen closely as he rattled off dates and places and took great delight in letting me know there would be a test. I didn't take him seriously. I should have, but I didn't." I did my best to push my emotions down. They were unproductive. But just thinking about the beatings made my back begin to burn and I had to lean forward in the chair. The memories were always just below the surface, ready to make an appearance like it was happening all over again. "When he came the next time, he pulled me to the center of the room and shackled my arms around the pole. The first time—" I bit the inside of my jaw. No one needed to know that the first time I got fifteen lashes for my naiveté. That was my pain and I would bear it alone. "Let's just say, I didn't do very well."

I heard swift intakes of breath from behind the agents. Even without specific details, Ranger and Joe were able to imagine what Durant had done to me.

Agent Kinkade's features softened and I chose to speak to her as if no one else was present. "As the days went on, I got better at his game. I even managed to get everything right, once." My face heated in embarrassment when I recalled how proud I'd been and how painful that particular lesson was. "Instead of being rewarded, he—" My voice turned thick with emotion. I clutched Cyrus' handkerchief in my hand_. _

_Don't you dare cry. _

"What did he do, Stephanie?" Agent Kinkade's voice was soft, encouraging.

"That time it was really bad. He flew into a rage. I didn't think he was going to stop hitting me. I woke up sometime later, passed out on the floor and he was gone."

Giving me time to compose myself, Agent Shaw reached down, pulling a stack of clear evidence bags out of a box at his feet and placed them on the table in front of me. "Each of Hunter Durant's victims are wearing period costumes in these pictures. Can you tell me the significance?"

I picked up each evidence bag, flipping through them as I studied each woman. Their pictures had been taken while they were still healthy and beautiful. By the time I got to mine, tears were streaming down my face. I turned my head and pushed the pictures away as I used the handkerchief to mop my face. When I got myself under control, I cleared my throat. "As a child, Emmie was given a porcelain doll for each birthday and Christmas. She displayed them in a special case. I think, in Durant's twisted mind, he was paying tribute to his sister by turning us into his own version of her dolls."

While Agents Shaw and Kinkade considered my explanation, I sat back in my chair, letting them draw their own conclusions. Agent Shaw picked up the picture of me in the red Victorian dress. "Can you tell us about the day this was taken?"

"He said that night marked the end of my old life and the beginning of our new one together." I drew in a large breath, not wanting to remember that night, but knowing they wouldn't settle for less than every little detail. I pointed at the picture. "He made me put that dress on and he fixed my hair and makeup. He'd brought a fancy meal of chicken cordon bleu with seasoned red potatoes and asparagus and set the table with candles and had music playing. After we ate, he made me dance with him and then he tried to kiss me." I swallowed, hard, and fought to continue. "When I didn't reciprocate his feelings, he hit me across the face."

Agent Kinkade was sitting back in her seat, letting Agent Shaw take over. I'd already figured out that they were tag teaming, leaving the more intrusive questions to Agent Shaw. "Earlier, you said you heard him talking quietly from behind the curtain," Agent Shaw stated.

"Yes, that was before I knew the women were back there."

He nodded. "Describe his interactions with them once he pulled the curtain away and introduced you to them."

"He treated them as if they were alive—talking and listening—carrying on conversations." Both agent's eyebrows rose in curiosity, hanging on my every word. "I asked him once, why he was talking to dead women and he laughed. He acted like I was the stupid one when he told me they weren't dead."

"Are you saying he believed the women were alive?" Agent Kinkade asked.

"I'm telling you what I saw and what he told me. You'll have to decide what his actions mean for yourselves." I swallowed and pushed my hair behind my ear. This next part had to be said, but that didn't mean I had to look at anyone while I said it. "He sat in front of their cases, masturbating while he talked to them. Then he'd use his—" I cleared my throat. "His um… you know... his stuff… to um… to paint on their cases." And on me, but they didn't need to know that.

Agent Shaw signaled for the forensic tech. "Be sure to swab the exterior of each case for DNA?"

"Already done, Sir," she said. "There were numerous smears of seminal fluid on each case except for two. The empty case and the third woman's case, tentatively identified as Ashley Allen, only had fingerprints. No DNA, Sir."

He dismissed the forensics technician and turned back to me. Not wanting to upset me, he skirted around the empty case and focused on Ashley. "He didn't paint with his ejaculate on Ashely Allen's case?"

"No. He hated her."

"Because he found out she was pregnant?"

"Yes. He said she was a whore." I blinked but maintained eye contact. "He was also angry at Melissa when he found out she had been divorced. That's when he decided she should take her rest." The confused expressions on their faces prompted me to explain what that meant. "That's what he called it when he put them in the glass cases. Since I've been divorced before, I was terrified he was going to find out and put me in a case too."

Agent Shaw mulled that information over in his head and then asked, "Why do you think Durant didn't kill you like the others?"

"The moment he brought me to the cellar he started killing me." I snorted. "His method of death takes a while." I paused to really think about why I lived, and they didn't. "But to answer your question, I told him whatever I had to in order to stay alive." Agent Shaw tilted his head to the side like he wanted to get inside my brain and learn all my secrets. "I gave him just enough reason to think I might one day return his feelings. It was a gamble, but he bought it… for a while." I paused, considering my words before I continued. "But now that I look back, I think he was more intrigued because I didn't behave like the other women."

"How were you behaving differently?"

I smiled and tried not to sigh. Hadn't he read my file? "This wasn't my first rodeo with a monster. This wasn't even the first time I've been kidnapped." I tried not to let the sarcasm seep through, but in my tired state, I wasn't very good at hiding my feelings. "I will admit, Durant is the worst by far, but because of my history, I apparently didn't cry like the others had. Mostly, because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but also because his moods were volatile, and I didn't want to do anything to set him off. One time he came in drunk, carrying a bottle of whiskey. It was hard to know what to say when he was like that."

"Did he drink often?"

"Not in my presence, but it was his and Emmie's birthday, so he was in a lot of emotional pain. He cried and asked me to hold him."

"Did you hold him?" Agent Kinkade asked. I nodded slowly but offered nothing else. "How did he react when you showed him compassion?"

"He seemed happy… for a few minutes, but then he'd get angry again." I shrugged like it was no big deal that I held my captor while he cried. "In a fit of rage, he threw the liquor bottle against the floor, shattering glass everywhere. I believe he tried to keep his rage under control, but he couldn't manage it for long."

I looked around, noticing that the women and all the evidence had been removed from the tent and was probably on its way to a lab somewhere. The only people left in the tent besides me and Cyrus, was Hector, Joe, Ranger, and Agent's Shaw and Kinkade. After a prolonged silence, Agent Shaw sat forward in his chair, elbows on the table, face serious. "When I asked how you knew Durant wasn't the father of Ashley's baby, you seemed certain he hadn't had sex with her. You've been vague on this particular subject, but I need to know if he had sexual relations with _any_ of the women."

I stayed silent, but inside I was vibrating with anger. Telling them about the most intimate details of the women's violation was a betrayal that I wasn't ready to commit. Those horrible moments when Durant hurt them in the worst possible way was their own private pain. I understood that. It wasn't as if they needed this information to punish him. He was already dead.

Sensing my reticence to answer, Cyrus said, "I'd like a moment to confer with my client." He helped me up and we walked several feet away to have a hushed conversation. "Agent Shaw is gearing up to ask you some very personal questions. Questions that you've already told me you don't want to answer. I can stop the interview, but that'll only buy you some time. They will need those questions answered. If not today, then very soon."

"I just want to get this over with… today."

"I can request that Mr. Sanchez, Detective Morelli, and Carlos be removed, so you don't have an audience during this part of the questioning."

I didn't mind Hector hearing what I had to say. He was always supportive no matter what and I was sure he wouldn't look at me differently. And it was pointless to ask Ranger and Joe to leave. They wouldn't be satisfied until they heard exactly what Durant had done to me. If they didn't get those answers today, they'd use their connections to call in a favor to get the transcripts of this interview and read it for themselves. Neither of them would rest until they knew the extent of how badly Durant had hurt me. "No," I said. "Let them stay."

When we took our seats again, Agent Shaw asked, "Would you like to finish this interview in private? We could reconvene at the Newark office in a couple hours?"

"I'd like to finish it now, please."

"Are you sure, Stephanie?" Agent Kinkade asked. "We don't want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I'm sure."

"Alright," Agent Shaw said. "I'll ask you again. To your knowledge, did Hunter Durant have sexual relations with _any_ of the women."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, debating on how much information I was going to share. I felt like the more details I supplied, the easier it would be for them to decide he'd done the same thing to me. "I don't know about the others," I finally said, "but he told me he had sex with Jenny right before she took her rest."

"I'm not following you," he said as he referred to the notes Agent Kinkade had typed into the computer. "Why would he wait sixteen months before forcing Jenny to have sex with him?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn't a therapist or a psychologist, how was I supposed to explain a crazy man's actions. "This is just my opinion, based on what I saw and heard, and what he told me. In the beginning, he was attracted to me, but it wasn't sexually based. That started to change as I lost weight. The skinnier I got, the more his interest sparked. I didn't put it together right away, but I believe that was why he only fed me once a day. He was walking a fine line, trying to keep me alive, but barely."

"The results from your medical exam were inconclusive." He cleared his throat and I knew he was about to ask what everyone had wanted to know since the moment I was discovered missing. I felt the room receding as if my chair was sliding backward on a track and everyone was getting farther and farther away. "Did Hunter Durant sexually assault _you_?"

All at once, image after image of Durant touching me and making me do things to him played out before my eyes. I felt my face getting hot. I was afraid everyone could see what I was seeing, and they would know just how dirty I really was.


	38. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER 38**

**Honesty Is Not the Best Policy**

I desperately wanted to look away, but I knew that if I did, it would be a clear sign of admission.

_Did he rape me? _

_Maybe. _

_Probably._

Cyrus and the state of New Jersey says he did, but what did it even matter? Durant's crimes against me went far beyond sexual violation and brutality. The despicable things he did to me left more scars on the inside than on the outside. He took the bumbling Bounty hunter and changed her in ways she would never recover from.

A wave of exhaustion hit me. I was done fighting. I just wanted to get the hell out of here. I cleared my face of any reactions and clasped my hands in my lap like Cyrus had told me to do when I was uncomfortable with a question. He put his hand over mine and leaned closer. "Would you like me to stop the interview?" he whispered.

I wanted him to take me out of here right now, but that couldn't happen, not if I wanted to close this chapter of my life. I squared my shoulders, met Agent Shaw's eyes straight on and firmly sold my version of the truth. "No. He did not sexually assault me." The lie weighed heavily on my tongue, but I'd said it and I wasn't taking it back.

I heard audible exhales from the men in my life, but didn't dare look their way for fear, Joe, and especially Ranger, would be able to tell I was lying. Now that I'd given them an answer, I felt like I could breathe again. What I said might not be technically true, but I was determined to push those memories out of my head and move forward. Maybe, if I tried hard enough, I would come to believe the lies myself.

Agent Kinkade nodded, relieved to hear I hadn't been raped, but there was a glimmer of skepticism in Agent Shaw's eyes and I knew he wasn't going to let it go. "Did he ever _attempt_ to sexually assault you?" he asked.

I wasn't about to look away from him. If he had the guts to ask intrusive questions, then it was time for me to be blunt with my answers. "He wanted to, but he couldn't maintain an erection. When his… equipment wouldn't cooperate, he would get angry, but then after he calmed down, he'd say that it hadn't been the right time yet. One of the last things he said to me was that he couldn't wait to be joined with me as I left this world."

"I'm confused," Agent Shaw said. "If he couldn't maintain an erection, how was he able to masturbate to completion in front of the dead women?"

This part was disgusting to think about, and I knew everyone in this room was going to feel the same way. "The first time I saw him doing that, I was shocked, too. Knowing he couldn't perform had alleviated some of my fears, but then I asked myself the same question you just asked me." I let that sink in. "I think you know what I concluded."

Agent Shaw tilted his head to the side. "I have a theory, but I'd like to hear what you have to say."

He was going to make me lay it all out for them. I gave myself a minute to get my emotions under control and then I continued. "He looked at them with love… as if they were beautiful even though they were decomposing. Each time I made a mistake reciting their stories, he would come to their defense as if I offended them and then he'd make me apologize to them. He treated them as if they were alive and witnessing everything in the cellar, but they weren't. That was the difference between me and them. They were dead and I was alive." I waited to see what they thought of _that_. It seemed as if they were lost for words. When no questions came, I continued. "I think seeing the image of Emmie's emaciated body at such a young age, coupled with the guilt over leaving her to die, messed with his mind." I tapped my forehead. "He could only get it up once his victims had lost so much weight that they looked skeletal and bordered on death. Unfortunately, that didn't leave him much time to have sexual relations with his victims, so... "

Agent Kinkade's brows crinkled. "Are you saying he had sexual relations with the women after they died?"

"Obviously, I didn't personally witness it, but from everything I know, I believe so." I crossed my arms over my stomach and let them process that bit of information. Realizing I was done with this particular topic, Agent Kinkade decided to change direction. I was grateful because I didn't like thinking about what Durant did to the women and what he had planned to do to me.

"How often did he bring food and water?" Agent Shaw asked.

"The first few days I was in the cellar he would bring a meal and share it with me. He was showing me his good side and like I said, he was trying to get me to fall in love with him, but after he determined that I wasn't 'The One', he started staying away longer. He said it was because I made him so mad he had to take some time to cool down, but what he meant was that he had to stay away, or he'd kill me in a fit of rage. After he introduced the women and told me their stories, he only brought peanut butter sandwiches and water for me to eat. Usually, I got one sandwich and bottle a day, but sometimes there would be two sandwiches and two bottles of water. That meant he wouldn't be coming back for a few days, and I was fine with that because it meant fewer beatings. I was careful to ration the food because I was never sure when or **if** he was coming back. At that point, he was just keeping me alive until he decided it was time for **MY** final rest."

"Obviously you were able to escape. Can you tell me about that?" Agent Shaw asked.

"I tried several times before I was successful." I smiled, reveling in the satisfaction I felt as I remembered the shocked look of pain in Durant's eyes when my teeth sunk into his neck. "When you do the autopsy, you'll find a chunk of skin missing from his neck where I bit him." I didn't wait for them to absorb that tidbit of information before I continued. "Another time I got my hands on his belt and managed to put it around his neck, choking him." They didn't need to know my hand had been on his dick, distracting him by making him think I was going to deepthroat him. "I almost had him that time, but by then, I was so weak he got the upper hand and beat me until I passed out."

"Yet, you were able to escape," he said with more than a little bit of disbelief. "How exactly did you manage that?"

I didn't take insult at his remark because it was only through sheer desperation that I succeeded in getting away. "A few days before I escaped, I woke up to find that an empty case had been placed next to Melissa." I swallowed hard, my breathing coming faster. "I knew it was for me, and that he had decided it was time for me to take my rest with the others. He hadn't planned on me getting sick, but he didn't do anything to help me once it was apparent that I was in a bad way. I begged him to take me to a doctor or bring me medicine… anything to help me. He ignored my pleas and tossed a paper bag at me. It had one sandwich and one bottle of water in it. I could make it last for a couple days, but there was something in his eyes when he threw the bag at me. I knew that when he came back, I was either going to be dead or he was going to hurt me while I lay dying. I had to do something before it was too late. I figured I had nothing left to lose."

"And what did you do?" Agent Kinkade sat forward in her chair. I paused a minute to think about how to phrase what I was about to say. I needed to come across as a woman who did what she had to do to survive instead of a bloodthirsty woman bent on getting revenge against her captor. I figured if I started to say something I shouldn't, Cyrus would stop me.

"I had to break my hand to get free." I scrunched my eyes and started breathing a little harder, remembering the sound of my bones breaking and grinding against each other as I pried the shackle off.

"Can you explain exactly how you did that?" Agent Shaw asked.

"I lay my left arm on the concrete floor, lifted the leg of the metal bed, and slammed it down on my wrist." I kept my voice detached. "The first strike wasn't hard enough, so I had to do it again. That time, I passed out and when I woke up, my hand was already starting to swell. I quickly removed the shackle, and stood on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to come through the door. I was so weak my legs were shaking. The longer I stood there, the more afraid I was that I wouldn't have the strength to hit him hard enough and it would backfire. I knew if it didn't work, he'd kill me on the spot. But I'd made peace with my decision. I was ready for it to be over—one way or the other. So, when he came through the door, I swung the chain. The shackle hit him in the head, and I don't remember what happened after that."

"What's the first thing you DO remember after hitting him?"

Cyrus was sitting up straight, listening intently. I waited for him to stop me, but he didn't. "I remember the sun blinding me and being in excruciating pain. That's when I realized I'd made it outside."

"Are you saying you have no memory of beating Durant or chaining him up?" Agent Shaw asked.

"No," I lied without hesitation.

"The medical examiner has given me a preliminary list of Durant's injuries." Agent Shaw opened one of the folders in front of him and read from it. "There were multiple blows to his head, stomach, and private areas." He looked up at me. "Can you explain these injuries, Ms. Plum?"

My first instinct was to shout that Durant deserved every hit I gave him and more. Cyrus put his hand on my forearm, sensing my anger below the surface. Instead of lashing out, I gave them the answer that would keep me out of prison. "No." I shook my head for emphasis.

Agent Shaw allowed a couple of minutes of silence to pass while he considered my answer, hoping that I'd offer more information. When I didn't, he continued, "Can you explain why your hands and clothing were covered in blood?"

"No."

Agent Shaw was a hard man to read, but I could see he wasn't one hundred percent certain I was telling the truth. "There seems to be a lot of things you don't remember."

He was starting to sound like Barry. "I've told you everything I can."

"Although I don't agree with Agent Hobbs' tactics, you do have to admit your memory loss is a little convenient." Agent Shaw studied me carefully for any sign that I was lying.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Cyrus put his hand on my arm again letting me know he would take this question. "You are free to speak with my client's neurologist. I'm sure he can answer any medical questions you might have."

"You're holding something back," he said. "Tell me why you removed his clothes and why you dressed yourself in them? Tell me how he got beaten so badly if you only hit him once? I want the full truth."

I sat forward, letting my anger rise to the surface. "You want to know the truth?" I asked as my voice got higher. "Hunter Durant was a serial killer and he was escalating. He held his first victim for sixteen months and his last for only eight. His down time in between killings went from spanning nine months down to four. Melissa's body wasn't even cold before he started stalking me. I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't already had his next victim picked out before he brought the empty glass case into the cellar. I don't know why I was able to get away and they weren't. I'll wonder about that until the day I die. But I didn't do anything wrong. I was going about my life, not bothering anyone, and some freak decided he could take me away from my family and friends. He hurt me and I couldn't stop him. I was at his mercy for my very life. I was prepared to die down there. I did my best to make peace with that. And when I found a way out, I took it. I don't give a shit about his wounds or how they happened, and I'd be happier to completely forget about everything that happened down there. I got free and that's all that matters to me."

His voice softened a little. "All I want is the full story."

I took a deep breath in and then exhaled—tired down to my bones. My eyes traveled back and forth between the agents, continuing with less anger. "Listen, I appreciate the job you have, but it's not possible to make sense out of the heinous things he did. He was crazy and he was beyond redemption. You just have to accept that and move on. That's what I'm going to do."

Cyrus got to his feet and offered his hand to help me stand. "Agent's, my client has fully cooperated on the record and is prepared to sign a sworn statement to everything she just said and now she needs to rest. Unless you're charging her, we'll be leaving."

Agent Shaw leaned back in his chair, but he made no move to stop us. "I'll be in touch once we've gone over the physical evidence."

"I don't need to remind you that no one speaks to my client without me being present." Cyrus helped me into my coat and began ushering me out of the tent. "You know how to reach me."

Hector was a couple steps ahead of us and had just reached the tent flap when Agent Kinkade called out to me. I turned around, noticing that Ranger and Joe were still behind the table talking with Agent Shaw, but they stopped to watch as Agent Kinkade caught up with us. "You've gone through a horrible experience," she said, "and I'm sorry this interview has brought painful memories to the surface." She reached for my hand; her face burdened with genuine sympathy for what I'd gone through. "I don't want to sound trite, but I hope you can put this ordeal behind you."

"How?" I asked. "How am I supposed to do that when I can still smell him… still feel him… and still hear his voice in my head?"

"I don't know, Stephanie." She shook her head as if she wanted to say something helpful, but just didn't have the words. "What happened to you was horrific and unfair. I think you should talk to someone… a professional who knows how to help you deal with everything."

Joe hurried over to me, taking my right arm and helping me out of the tent. "Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded slightly as I summoned the desire to return his smile, hoping it appeared authentic, but I had a feeling he saw through my phony attempt. Ranger fell into step beside Cyrus, talking in quiet tones, most likely about my interview and my chances of being arrested. A door on one of the Rangeman SUV's opened and Lester got out. He gave me a quick hug and stepped back.

"Call me if the FBI agents contact you," Cyrus said. "I think I've made myself perfectly clear to them, but just to remind you, do not answer any questions without me." His eyes were lasered onto mine, waiting for an answer.

"Got it," I said. "No talking to the feds."

"You did great." He squeezed my hand and got in his big red truck and took off.

"I'm going to stay a while longer," Joe said. "I need to get a feel for what Shaw and Kinkade are thinking after your interview." He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear before turning to Hector. "Do you mind taking her to my house?" Hector wasn't much for words, so he tipped his head in agreement while Morelli hugged me close and kissed my forehead. "Get some rest, I'll be home as soon as I can." Then he took off back toward the tent, leaving me with Ranger, Hector, and Lester.

Ranger placed his finger under my chin and lifted my face. He must have seen something that satisfied him because his lips curved at the corner in a barely there smile. He pulled me to him and kissed me on the forehead. "Eat and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." He faced Lester and after a silent message passed between them, Lester slung his arm around my shoulders, letting me know he'd won the babysitting lottery. Now that I was taken care of, Ranger went to join Joe and the agents.

I was drained. Exhausted. Empty. Take your pick. But most of all I was disappointed neither man I loved was coming with me. On a professional level, I understood why they needed to stay behind. Searching for me, had involved multiple jurisdictions and there were things that needed to be handled. But on a personal level, they would feel compelled to see inside the cellar for themselves and now that all the evidence had been removed, I'm sure the agents would allow them to go down. Even knowing all of that, I still wished one of them was going home with me.

Before I had the chance to fully embrace my pity party, Lester gently bumped my hip to get my attention. He glanced over at Hector, including him in his observation. "Looks like you got the 'A team,' Beautiful." He tipped his imaginary hat at me. After the day I'd had, I didn't think it was possible to laugh, but I did. "Hector and I are at your service." His smile turned lecherous as he bounced his eyebrows and leaned in close. "And by service, I mean… well, I don't _usually_ do full frontal nudity, but in your case, if it gets me another one of those laughs, I'll make the sacrifice." He looked at Hector and his eyes brightened as if he'd just had a brilliant idea. "And maybe we can get Hector to show us how far down those tattoos of his go."

Hector's smile dropped and his face turned deadly. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. He looked like he was seconds away from tearing Lester apart. Laughing felt odd and uncomfortable, like it was something I shouldn't be doing, but I couldn't help it. When I snorted, Hector himself barked out a laugh. I wasn't sure I'd ever heard him do that before.

Once we pulled ourselves together and got in the SUV, I looked over my shoulder into the backseat, smiling evilly at Lester. "If you're going to be putting on a show, we should stop for dollar bills." I paused, letting Lester's dirty mind go to work conjuring up all kinds of images before adding, "and my Grandma."

Lester's smile vanished quicker than a box of donuts on Connie's desk.


	39. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

**Hanging On By A hair**

**Ranger POV**

This had been a long day, and my job here still wasn't done. I wished more than anything that I was the one driving away with her, but I couldn't, not if I was going to make sure this case was closed without her being charged with murder. To do that, I needed to go down into the cellar and see the space for myself and find out from the agents what evidence they had against her. I couldn't trust Morelli to have Stephanie's best interests at heart.

My steps grew heavier as I walked away from the only woman to ever hold my heart. From behind me, I heard the SUV accelerate as it drove away. I turned around in time to see it disappearing around the bend. I paused to stare at the empty road, still seeing the desolate look in her eyes when she realized I wasn't going with her. For a moment, I imagined there were no legal dilemmas hanging over our heads and that she was at home sleeping in my bed on seven. In my heart, I knew that was the way it should be. But instead she was on her way to another man's home and to his bed where he would take care of her. A blast of cold wind hit me, and I turned my head to shield my face from the worst of it.

While she was in the hospital, I'd been the one who made sure she was taken care of, but now that she was out of the hospital, things would change. I wouldn't be able to have constant contact with her while she was living in Morelli's home and that worried me because he never seemed to make her a priority. Instead of staying with her, he'd go in to work and leave her alone in his house all day. In her mental state, I didn't think that was a good idea. It was up to me to make sure that didn't happen. I knew I wouldn't have any trouble finding volunteers to sit with her, my men loved her, Hector, Lester and Cal especially. Being in Morelli's home didn't fill me with joy, but I would put her comfort ahead of my own and manage to endure the territory dispute. I wasn't sure how he was going to feel about my prolonged presence, but he'd just have to get used to having me in his space, because I wasn't going anywhere.

Stephanie wouldn't know it from my reactions, but her behavior has hurt me plenty over the years. Always waffling from my bed to Morelli's. Of course, I couldn't blame her, it's not like I've given her a solid reason to choose me. I couldn't even offer her a stable relationship. The fact is, she was a complication I hadn't anticipated. But I've always tried to give her everything she needed, and it hurt that she hadn't turned to me for support today. Instead, she'd asked Hector to accompany her into the interview. She held onto him as if he was the only thing keeping her from drowning when that used to be my job. I wasn't sure what was behind her decision, but I was glad that she had a friend who cared about her as much as Hector. I just wished I was the one she'd wanted sitting next to her. The one whose hand she reached for when she was so distraught she could barely speak.

Anyone could see that she was only sharing half of what had happened to her down there. It was a sanitized version. I wanted to believe her when she said he hadn't raped her, but I wasn't so sure she was telling the truth. Nothing she said had rid me of the guilt I felt for not being there to protect her. The feelings I'd been holding inside for weeks swirled around in my gut getting stronger and stronger. Some days I wasn't sure I was going to be able to put one foot in front of the other. I'd never failed so miserably before. I let her think I was some kind of hero. That I could save the day by sheer force of will, but I can't. I'm only a man. A flawed man. And definitely a man who doesn't deserve her. Realizing I was letting my doubts and fears control me, I shook those useless feelings away. I couldn't let that kind of thinking continue. When I turned back toward the cellar, I was the hardened soldier that I'd been trained to be.

I caught up with the others at the opening to the cellar. I'd wanted to go down there since we'd discovered it this morning but couldn't because having too many people trudging through the crime scene would have contaminated it. But now that they'd cleared most everything out of there, I was hoping Agent Shaw would allow me to go down… even for a few minutes. I couldn't fathom wondering for another second what it had been like for her living down there… with _him_. I had to see it for myself.

Agents Kinkade and Shaw stood talking with Morelli and a couple of other feds as I approached. "Mr. Manoso," Agent Shaw said as he tilted his head toward Morelli. "Detective Morelli was just asking if he could go down into the cellar and have a look around for himself. I wouldn't mind getting your take on a couple of matters. Would you like to join us?"

Just the invitation I'd been angling for. "After you." I held my hand out for him to go first. If Agent Shaw thought he was going to get me down there and get me talking about Stephanie, he was mistaken. I wouldn't say anything to hurt her case of justifiable homicide. But I had every intention of gleaning information from them and hopefully they would let something slip about the investigation. I was going to do whatever it took to determine how much trouble Stephanie was in.

"Stay to the left as you go down the stairs," Agent Shaw said as he pointed at the streaks of blood on the left-hand side of the steps and on the wall where Stephanie must have used it for support. Agent Kinkade went next and then Morelli and then me. As I went down the stairs I focused on the trail of blood. There was a lot of it, but I was pretty sure it was Durant's blood and not Stephanie's. Especially since the clothes she was wearing when she was found had been covered in blood that didn't belong to her. I felt perverse pride knowing she'd kicked his ass.

At the bottom of the stairs, a metal door stood open. A vice tightened around my heart when I saw the three padlocks attached to it. As soon as I stepped across the threshold into the cellar, my eyes swept the room. It was probably 20X20 and even though the bodies of the women had already been removed, it still smelled worse than any battlefield I'd ever been on.

The cold seeped through my coat. It was only marginally warmer down here than outside, but it was still too cold for Stephanie to have been kept naked with only a blanket and small heater to keep her warm. I didn't know how she had survived down here for so long. I'd been held in the jungle for three days by Colombian rebels and it had taken its toll on me in so many ways.

I watched Morelli as he looked around the cellar. I could see some of the same regrets I was having shadowed in his eyes. It wasn't the first time we'd both struggled to deal with our feelings after Stephanie had gone through something traumatic and it probably wasn't going to be the last. Morelli took a deep breath and schooled his features to distance himself from his emotions. Now, he was all business. Closing yourself off like that was hard to do. I had to give him respect for that.

To my left, there was a metal bed frame attached to the wall along the back leaving two legs in the front to support the rest of the weight. This is where she'd slept for twenty-nine days. My eyes alternated between the heavy metal legs of the bed wondering which of the two had been the one she used to break her bones.

Agent Kinkade saw where I was looking and pointed to the one on the right. "This is the leg that Stephanie used to break her hand."

I zeroed in on the one she indicated. So, this is what had saved Stephanie's life. I could almost feel her desperation as she brought the leg down on her hand… not once, but twice.

"And these chunks of missing mortar," she pointed at the wall to the right of the bed, "is where she stated that she practiced her swing."

I studied the gouges in the cinderblock wall. There were several of them and they all appeared to be deep as if the person who swung the weapon knew her very life depended on her ability to strike a fatal blow.

The sound of a drill caught my attention and I looked to the opposite side of the room. An agent was standing on a ladder unscrewing a metal cable that spanned the center of the room. This is why he put a collar around her neck. He had her chained up like a dog. I clenched my fists, wishing I had something or someone to take my anger out on.

I couldn't look at the cable without seeing her chained up like an animal. I let my focus shift to something else… anything else. Unfortunately, the next thing I saw was the wooden support pole in the center of the room. For a second, I was rooted to the spot, unable to move closer and inspect the place where most of her pain had taken place. I shook off my reticence and walked closer, putting my hand on the splintered wood, still stained with her blood. I could see Stephanie chained to the pole, her back at the mercy of that sick bastard. The room turned deathly quiet. My eyes burned and I had to look down to gain control of my emotions, but that went all to hell when I saw her blood staining the floor. She had endured so much, and I hadn't known. I was so full of rage I was about to blow.

Agent Kinkade came up behind me, lightly placing her hand on my shoulder. "Keep reminding yourself that she got away. I've seen many people in the aftermath of trauma and Stephanie is stronger than all of them. She will make it through this. It won't be easy, but you and the rest of her friends will support her." I cleared my throat and raised my head, once again in control. "I have pictures of the cellar before everything was dismantled and removed to the lab. Would you like to see them?" After I nodded, she stepped closer and held out her iPad.

Morelli had been speaking with Agent Shaw on the other side of the room while I surveyed the cellar, but he became curious when he saw Agent Kinkade pull out her iPad. He stepped closer to us and asked, "What do you have there?"

"I was just showing Mr. Manoso pictures of the crime scene." She pointed at a place on the screen to the right of the bed. "There was a chemical toilet positioned here." Moving her finger further to the right corner of the room next to the sink, she said, "And there was a large metal tub sitting here. Probably used for bathing."

I inhaled a slow deep breath. I hated the thought of Stephanie being naked in front of that bastard, but the thought of him watching her bathe was too much. What if he'd touched her? Or worse. She said he hadn't, but she had also been hazy with a lot of details regarding herself and what Durant had done to her. I had to wonder why.

"The glass cases were lined up here," Agent Kinkade motioned to the right side of the room. "And this is where Durant fell after she initially hit him." She pointed at a large blood stained area on the concrete floor near the doorway.

"So, she stood on the bed, like this?" Morelli tried to reenact Stephanie's final moments in the cellar by standing beside the door. "And when she heard him come in, she swung the empty shackle at his head?"

"Yes," Agent Shaw said. "Do you see these blood drops? He must have fallen to his knees here and lurched sideways out of her reach except for his feet. These smears are probably from dragging him closer. Since she can't tell us about this part, we must go on what the physical evidence suggests and our best guess. With this much blood loss, we have to assume that whatever happened took place right here in this spot."

"So, this is where he died?" Morelli asked.

"No," Agent Shaw shook his head. "Durant was found dead on the bed. The mattress was soaked in dried blood. The lab will have to test it to make sure it was his, but that seems to be the consensus." He didn't offer anything else. He was more interested in hearing Morelli's theories and instead of keeping them to himself like I was, he was acting as if this was any other case that he was puzzling out. It made me wonder what he would do if Stephanie had killed Durant in cold blood. Would Morelli turn her in?

"These smears," Morelli pointed out as if he was auditioning to become an agent himself, "show that he was moved from where he bled on the concrete to the bed. But there's no way she could have lifted him onto the bed by herself. That means he had to have crawled to the bed and managed to get himself up onto the mattress. He was alive. She didn't kill him."

Morelli appeared to be relieved that Stephanie hadn't killed Durant in cold blood. Sure, it made things less complicated, but I wouldn't have cared if she'd beaten the man to death. It wouldn't have changed how I look at her or how much I love her. After what he did to her, he deserved to die.

"Cause of death is yet to be determined," Agent Shaw said.

"Yes," Morelli agreed, "but you have to admit that if he was capable of getting himself up on the bed, he wasn't too badly hurt."

"If that is the case, then he likely starved to death," Agent Shaw said. "Ms. Plum's memory loss is what kept anyone from finding this place sooner. Maybe he would have lived to tell us why he killed these other women."

"Whatever Stephanie did, it was to save her life." Morelli bristled. "She can't help it if she can't remember the details."

I stepped in front of Morelli to shut him up. If he kept talking, he was going to make things harder for Stephanie. These agents weren't out to arrest her, they were simply interested in finding out why Durant had done these heinous things. She had documented memory loss from suffering a severe head injury. Nothing here was premeditated. They would have no choice but to declare this a clear case of self-defense and absolve her of any wrongdoing.

The forensic tech who was removing the metal cable called the agents over. They stepped away to speak with him. Morelli knelt beside the blood smears, studying them as if they could tell him the whole story.

A sudden chill ran through me. I got the feeling that something was wrong… very, very wrong.

* * *

Lester, Hector, and I had finished eating take out from Cluck in a Bucket and were now settled on Joe's couch watching TV. The urge to pee hit me and I got to my feet. "What is wrong, Agelita? Do you need something from the kitchen?" Hector asked.

I headed for the stairs. "I'll be back. I just need to go to the bathroom." After I finished my business, I washed my hands, careful not to get my cast wet. I was making an effort not to look in the mirror, but finally my curiosity got the best of me. The bruises were almost gone, but my face was still too pale and too thin. And when I looked into my eyes, there was something undefinable missing. I felt dead inside.

The thought of going back downstairs and pretending that I was okay seemed like a mountain I couldn't climb. The guys thought they were being stealthy, but I saw their concerned glances as they checked to make sure I wasn't crying or breaking down. They were treating me like glass, and I hated it. It was exhausting having everyone feeling sorry for me. There was no way I could shoulder their grief. The weight of everything was so heavy it was hard to breath sometimes.

"You can do this." I gave myself a pep talk. "Just fake it till you make it." I waited to see if I suddenly felt stronger, but I felt more like a loser than I ever had. Even before this thing with Durant happened, I'd been struggling with feelings of inadequacy. I even went so far as to ask Joe and Ranger if they thought I was a loser. Of course, they wouldn't tell me the truth. And now I wasn't sure it even mattered.

My hair was a windblown mess. Before I turned off the sink, I wet my hand and tried to smooth my curls down. I tilted my head to the side looking at them… really looking at them. I pulled a spiral out and let it spring back. I decided I hated them. Agent Kinkade's voice began echoing inside my head. _'Why you, Stephanie? Why did Hunter Durant pick you?'_ That was a good question. Why had he picked me? I've asked myself that question a million times, but I still didn't have an answer.

Despite all the walls I'd erected, the memories I worked hard to keep buried began pushing through. I remembered how it felt to have him brushing my hair and how it felt as he toyed with my curls, twisting them around his finger and letting them go. I stared in the mirror at myself, listening to his voice whispering in my ear. _'Your curls were the first thing I noticed about you.'_

I found the scissors in the vanity drawer and with my casted hand I lifted a section of hair and brought the scissors to it. He said I was beautiful, but if this is the price of beauty, I didn't want to be pretty anymore. And I didn't want these damn curls anymore either. I squeezed the scissors and watched as the first lock hit the floor. I waited to see how I felt. A few seconds went by while I waited for regret to kick in. But it didn't come. I felt numb, so I cut another piece and then another. When I got done, there was a pile of chestnut colored curls on the floor. My hair was uneven, the shortest parts being just a few inches, but nothing longer than the length of my hand.

I stared into the mirror, wondering when I was going to feel better, but I couldn't stop thinking that I hadn't done enough. I looked down at Joe's clippers and thought about using them. The only thing running through my mind was that I had to make myself so ugly that no one would want to give me a second look. I was getting ready to put the scissors down and grab the clippers when someone knocked on the door.

* * *

"Angelita, Are you okay in there?" Hector called out and when Stephanie didn't answer, he started pounding on the door and twisting the doorknob.

"Beautiful, let us in," Lester called out, his voice clear with alarm. When they didn't hear a response from inside, he called out again. "Steph, answer me." He banged more frantically on the door; the jamb in danger of splitting.

Hector held onto the doorknob as he placed his shoulder against the door. For all he knew, she was standing directly on the other side of the door. He had to be careful that the door didn't hit her when he forced it open. He put his weight into it, forcing the spring latch out of the strike plate and pushed the door open. He was relieved to see Steph standing in front of the sink unharmed.

It took him another second to understand that she'd butchered her hair and was holding onto a sharp pair of scissors. His heart started beating faster in his chest. "What have you done, Angelita?" Realizing that she was fragile and that sudden movements could cause her to react unpredictably, he held his hands up, showing her that he wasn't going to hurt her. He was afraid she could unintentionally hurt herself or him. Slowly, he eased his hand forward until he gently took the scissors from her grasp. He quickly pocketed them and placed his hands on her shoulders as tears gathered in his eyes. She was simply standing there, frozen in place. This was bad… very, very bad. He crushed her to him, softly whispering to her that everything was going to be alright.

Lester couldn't believe his eyes. What had she done to her hair? Why? They were supposed to be watching her and look what's happened. But what concerned him the most was her lack of response to them. She appeared to be an empty shell. "She's tired on her feet. Let's get her out of here and into bed," he said as he approached her tentatively, mindful of his large size and careful not to scare her. He cared deeply for her and maybe he was a little in love with her. "The best thing for her right now is to get some sleep."

Steph didn't protest as they led her across the hall and sat her down on the bed. Lester knelt on the floor, pulling her tennis shoes off and gently coaxed her to lay back. Steph turned onto her side away from them; her eyes closed. Hector picked up a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it across her before he and Lester stepped out into the hallway. "What do we do now?" Hector asked, low enough that Steph wouldn't be disturbed. "When she wakes up, and see's what she has done, she will be heartbroken."

Lester wasn't so sure about that. He'd seen something in her eyes that made him think she knew exactly what she'd done and didn't care. But what did he know about women? "We can't call her mother or sister. She doesn't need that drama, and neither do we. Maybe we should call her friend."

"Mary Lou?"

"Yeah," Lester said, relieved to have a plan. "I'll go down and get her number from Steph's phone while you call Ranger." Lester was already halfway down the stairs before Hector realized he'd been hoodwinked.

"Make her some hot cocoa while you are down there," Hector called after him.

"10-4, hermano. Good luck."

Hector peaked in at her, noticing she hadn't moved. He closed the door and placed the call. Ranger answered on the first ring. "What's happened?"

"Estefanía has had an episode."

The feeling of alarm that Ranger was experiencing made sense now. It wasn't just his internal reaction to being in the evil space where Stephanie had been tortured. She needed him right now. "What kind of episode?" he asked. While Hector explained that Stephanie had chopped off her hair, the pain in Ranger's chest grew. He could almost feel her despair. If he didn't know that he was in excellent health, he would swear he was having a heart attack. "She cut her hair off?" Words couldn't describe how angry he was. "Where the hell were you?"

"I cannot go into the bathroom with her," Hector said. "She was taking too long. I knocked, but she would not open the door."

Joe had watched Ranger take the call and when he heard the anger in his voice, he approached. "What's going on? Is Stephanie okay?"

Ranger shook his head to let Morelli know that everything was not okay. "Put her on the phone," he told Hector.

"She has not spoken since we found her." He went back into the bedroom. "Angelita? It is Ranger on the phone. He is worried about you." When she still didn't respond or move, he gently placed the phone against her ear.

"Babe."

Stephanie sniffed but didn't say anything.

"I'm on my way, okay?"

When she still didn't respond, Hector pulled the phone away. "She heard you," he told Ranger and then he listened for another minute and hung up.

"Here you go, Beautiful. I couldn't find any cocoa packets in the kitchen and didn't know how to make it from scratch, so I had Cal bring these. In his hand, he held a tray with three large Styrofoam cups and a small white box.

Hector took one of the cups and held it out to her. "Can you sit up, Angelita?" When she didn't move, he said, "Please." That word worked for Ranger and he was hoping it would work for him as well. She carefully sat up and leaned against the headboard, but still didn't speak as she took the cup from Hector.

"And because Cal's got a sweet tooth, he got us some muffins," Lester said as he opened the box and held it out to her to make her selection. "I think there's strawberry, blueberry, and cinnamon. I'll fight you for the blueberry, because you know they're my favorite." As soon as he put the box in front of her, her hand darted out, quickly picking a random muffin uncaring which flavor and pulling it close to her chest. Lester looked at Hector with tears pooling in his eyes at her desperate grab for food. The mere thought that they'd take food away from her had them choking up with emotion. They knew she'd been severely starved in the cellar. As far as they were concerned, she would never go hungry again.

Hector had to find a way to pull his Angelita out of the fog she was in. He reached into the box and purposefully chose his muffin leaving the last one for Lester.

Lester looked inside and frowned. Then he looked at Hector and the blueberry muffin in his hand. "Seriously?"

Hector smirked, knowing that Lester was stuck with the cinnamon. Even though Steph's withdrawal had made things in the room tense, they were doing their best to interact with her and keep her engaged. They weren't going to let her slip away in her mind.

Steph finished her muffin before the others. They couldn't even be sure she'd had time to taste it. She hadn't inhaled it, but she did eat it quickly. It took Lester and Hector longer to finish theirs. Just as Lester popped his last bite in his mouth, a knock sounded at the front door. He took off down the stairs to let Mary Lou inside. Minutes later, Mary Lou rushed into the room and pulled Steph into a hug. She sat down on the side of the bed, tears running down her face, but Steph had no reaction. Mary Lou sniffed and dried her tears on her sleeve as she looked at what Steph had done to her hair. It was badly butchered. Some places were about six inches long and others were three or four. She'd really made a mess.

* * *

Ranger was speeding down the interstate, his only goal was to get to Stephanie as fast as possible. He was feeling all kinds of guilt. He knew he should have taken her home instead of letting Hector and Lester do it. But at least his sacrifice hadn't been in vain. He felt positive they weren't going to charge her with murder.

Morelli had managed to keep up with him for a while, but by the time he reached the Trenton city line, Morelli was nowhere in sight. Ranger sent a text to Lester to let him know he was minutes away from Morelli's house. He was waiting at the door to let him in when he pulled up in front of the house. He wasted no time running up the stairs.

"Babe." Ranger sat down on the side of the bed, opposite Mary Lou. "What happened?"

Steph had been sleeping, but woke to the sound of Ranger's voice, confused about where she was. He pulled her into his arms and held onto her as if his life depended on it. He stroked her back and rocked her all the while whispering words of reassurance in her ear.

Not long after that, Joe came barreling into the room and took one look at Stephanie. "Cupcake, what have you done?"

She pulled back from Ranger and looked at each person in the room, trying to ascertain why everyone was so upset. Joe was staring at her as if he didn't know her. Hector and Lester wore twin expressions of sadness and guilt. Mary Lou's mouth was twisted as if she was trying hard not to cry. And Ranger's face had more emotion than she'd ever seen. As was her habit when she was flustered, she pushed her hair behind her ears. That's when she noticed the difference and remembered what she'd done. Joe came closer, forcing Mary Lou to get up and step aside. Ranger tightened his arms around Stephanie, but she pulled away from him and sat up straighter. She wondered why Joe was angry. It wasn't his hair. She could shave it off if she wanted and she still might. It had made her feel powerful and she liked it.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" he asked. "You always go to Mr. Alexander at the mall to get your hair cut."

How could I make them understand? Those damn curls were what got me into this mess in the first place.

"Mr. Alexander?" Hector asked.

"Yes," Mary Lou said. "He's been her hairdresser for years. He's the only one who knows how to cut her hair the way she likes it."

Ranger gave Hector a barely perceptible nod and Hector left the room. Lester followed. "Where're you going, man?"

"WE are going to retrieve this Mr. Alexander and bring him here."

Lester's eyebrows rose. "You want to kidnap him?" he whispered.

"If he knows what is good for him, he will come of his own free will. He will be well compensated for his troubles."

"Alrighty then." Lester slapped Hector on the back. "Let's do this."

Inside the bedroom, Ranger took Steph's hand in his, softly stroking his thumb across her knuckles, and said, "I called Dr. Powell on my way here. She's arranged an appointment with Dr. Mereck."

"Who's Dr. Mereck?" Joe demanded as he sat down on the other side of Stephanie.

"She's a therapist." Ranger hadn't bothered to look at him. His focus was one hundred percent on Stephanie. "I'm going to take you to see her in the morning… first thing, okay?"

Stephanie wanted to tell him no, but he was desperate for her to get back to normal and she couldn't let him down. She could see in his eyes that he was scared for her. Even though it would be a pointless trip, she was going to have to agree to go. She wasn't going to talk about what Durant had done to her. Not now. Not ever. In the end, she nodded her head.

Twenty minutes later, Hector and Lester shoved their unwilling guest through Joe's bedroom doorway. "What is the meaning of this? You will take me home right this instant." Stephanie was sitting up, leaning against the headboard of Joe's bed. Mr. Alexander came up short when he saw the state of her hair. He put his hand over his chest and inhaled a pained breath. "Mercy. What has been done to you?"

"Shut it," Lester said. "If you hurt her feelings, I'll hurt something worse of yours."

"What do you want from me?"

"You will make her more beautiful than she has ever been," Ranger said, never taking his eyes off her.

Stephanie wanted to scream. This was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

"Yes," Mr. Alexander nodded. "I am the best in all of the East Coast. I can do this." He snapped his fingers impatiently at Ranger. "Bring me a towel, a chair, and my bag." Ranger cut his eyes toward Mr. Alexander, in warning.

Lester left the room to gather the items. After everything had been assembled the way Mr. Alexander demanded, Lester said, "Ready when you are."

"Madame Stephanie," Mr. Alexander said, "if you will please take a seat, I will make magic."

Ranger thought he would have to pick her up and place her in the chair, but she got up without saying a word and followed the directions. Everyone stood back and watched her robotic response. She was simply obeying commands. In fact, Hector thought if he told her to jump out the window, she just might do it. He was worried.

Joe's phone rang and he stepped out into the hall to take it. When he came back in, Mr. Alexander was still combing her hair and tilting his head to the side while he assessed the situation. Joe guessed he was trying to figure out the best way to fix the mess Stephanie had made. "Your mother called," Joe told her. "She wants to bring dinner."

Stephanie started shaking her head. She didn't want her mother to see her right now. She'd freak out.

Joe put his hand on her cheek. "It's okay. I'll go by and get the dinner and be right back." He looked at Ranger and paused, not happy about what he was getting ready to ask. "Can you stay with her until I get back?"

Ranger was insulted that Morelli thought he'd leave while Stephanie was clearly dealing with the aftermath of her trauma. He nodded and Morelli left.

Lester sat on the bed in front of Steph's chair and pulled her feet into his lap. While Mr. Alexander cut her hair, he began massaging her feet and separated her toes. "This little piggy went… "

Mary Lou giggled and put her hand over her mouth. "Can I take this one home with me, Steph?" She was trying to get Stephanie to engage in conversation, but when she didn't respond, Mary Lou pursed her lips and looked at Lester appraisingly. "I don't know. He's a big boy. His grocery bill would probably bankrupt me, so I'll let you keep him."

"There," Mr. Alexander said as he stepped back and appraised his work. He had repaired the damage Steph had done to her hair and given it a nice shape. It was short, but she looked pretty. "It is a masterpiece."

Steph had no desire to see what he'd done. As long as Ranger and Joe didn't look at her like she was a freak, she would be okay. She stood up to follow Mr. Alexander out of the room. "Where are you going," Ranger asked even though she had yet to speak.

"Downstairs to wait for Joe. I'm hungry."

They all looked at each other and then at her back as she walked away. Ranger quickly got up to escort her downstairs and sit with her on the couch.

"I'm going to take off, Steph," Mare said as she slipped into her coat. "Call me if you need me. Anytime." She gave Steph a hug and left.

Hector and Lester kept up an easy banter while waiting for Joe to get back from her parents. Steph was relieved to have the company. It prevented Ranger from asking anymore questions.

A few minutes later the front door opened, and Joe walked through. He smiled when he looked at her. "You look nice. Mr. Alexander did a good job." He didn't want to dwell on her hair episode, so he lifted the bag in front of him. "Your mom sent pot roast and some of your favorites." Steph's stomach growled as the aroma filled the house. "Mrs. Plum sent more than enough food. You're welcome to stay and eat," he told Ranger, Hector, and Lester, but they were already putting on their coats.

Hector cast Joe a sideways glance and she thought she heard a low growl in his throat. Joe's narrowing eyes let her know she hadn't been hearing things and that he was aware of the hostility as well. She frowned. Ever since she'd woken up in the hospital Hector's behavior toward Joe had been downright chilling. At the time, she had pushed her questions to the back of her mind.

"I will bring breakfast in the morning," Hector said as he leaned down to kiss Steph on the cheek, unconcerned whether Joe wanted him here or not. Maybe tomorrow when they were alone, she'd ask Hector what was going on.

"Would you mind getting some things from my apartment?" She kept some clothes at Joe's, but she could use a couple more loose-fitting outfits.

"Text me the list." He smiled, happy that she was acting more like herself.

Lester leaned down to kiss Steph's forehead. "I have to work in the morning, but I'll stop by in the afternoon to see how you're doing. Want me to bring you anything?"

"Blueberry muffin?" She gave him a sad smile.

His smile split his face. "You got it, Beautiful."

Ranger wanted to kiss her on the lips, but Morelli was standing right there, and he didn't want to cause trouble for her. Instead, he kissed her cheek and said, "I'll pick you up at 8:30 a.m. for your appointment." She didn't really have a choice about speaking to the therapist. She'd freaked everyone out by what she'd done, and if she said no, he would insist. "If you need me, call," he told her and then followed Hector and Lester out the door.

As soon as Joe locked up behind them, Bob jumped up on the couch and put his head in her lap. "Got any room for me?" he asked as he nudged Bob over.

"Always," she said, cuddling into him, enjoying the quiet.

She stayed that way for a while, not talking, just listening to the beat of his heart. Finally, Joe lifted her off his chest and helped her to lie down fully on the couch. "While you rest, I'll heat up the dinner your mother sent."


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

**Come Full Circle**

I'd eaten all the pot roast I could hold and even managed to save a little room for pineapple upside down cake. A warm feeling came over me knowing that it was my mother's way of reminding me she loves me. I got up from the table to take my dishes to the sink. "I've got it," Joe said as he took my plate from me. I knew he wasn't happy that I'd cut my hair, but at least we'd made it through dinner without further comment. "You've had a tough day." He pulled me into his arms. "Why don't you take a bath and relax? The bubbles you love are under the sink." I nodded and let him kiss me before heading upstairs.

I gathered my night shirt and a clean pair of underwear and placed them on the bathroom counter. I selected a soothing playlist on my phone and the music began playing while I filled the bathtub with bubbles and hot water. I opted not to use the plastic sleeve and let my cast drape over the tub as my foot tapped against the porcelain, keeping pace with the music. As I soaked, I tried to focus on the music and let my mind go blank. Every time a thought from the cellar or Durant entered my mind, I quickly replaced it with something else… anything else. The bubbles started to dissipate, and the water cooled, but I wasn't ready to get out. I debated adding more hot water, but I was only prolonging the inevitable. I'd have to get out sometime.

When I finally stepped out of the bath, I was pink and pruney. I slathered lotion all over, pampering my poor abused skin, then slipped on the same t-shirt from last night. Most of my wounds had healed enough that I didn't need to keep them covered anymore. I applied antibiotic cream to the ones I could reach and left the rest for Joe to help with. Once I was done, I gathered the medical supplies and went looking for Joe.

I checked in the bedroom first and then his office. When I didn't find him, I headed downstairs. As I stepped off the bottom stair, I heard his angry voice and stopped in my tracks, heart suddenly beating overtime. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?" He was speaking quietly, controlling his voice so as not to be overheard. "Don't make me choose. You won't like my answer."

Was someone here? My curiosity got the better of me and I peeked around the corner to find Joe holding his phone to his ear, staring out the back door while Bob did his business. Now that I knew a stranger wasn't in the house, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was getting ready to call out when he started speaking again. "You're going to have to wait. There's no way I can get away right now."

He sounded tired and overworked. Guilt hit me like a ton of bricks. He'd been spending so much time traveling back and forth to the hospital and doing his best to take care of me that he was letting other things slide. His life was a mess and it was all my fault. I'd been so absorbed in what I'd been going through that I hadn't even bothered to ask him how his assignment had gone or if it was even over. For all I knew, he'd gone AWOL when he heard I was missing and now he was in trouble with his superiors.

"I know." He sighed; his anger having left him. "Just give me a few days." I thought he was going to hang up, but he waited… listening to the caller. And then he spoke softly—so softly I could barely hear him. "Me too." He disconnected the call and put his hands on each side of the doorjamb, hanging his head as if his responsibilities were weighing him down. He was clearly upset, and I wondered why, but I wasn't sure I wanted to ask. I decided I couldn't stand here all night.

"Joe," I said as soon as I came around the corner, concern lacing my voice, "is everything alright?"

He jumped at the sound of my voice and quickly turned around, studying my face. He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You've had a long day," he said. "I thought you'd already be in bed." He made up the distance between us, pulling me into him, nestling my cheek against his chest. I got the feeling I wasn't supposed to overhear his conversation, so when he didn't answer my question, I decided to let him keep his pride and play along. I was probably the reason he was in trouble anyway and if that was the case, he wouldn't want me to know.

"I was thirsty." I hugged him tighter for a moment and then pulled away, handing him the bandages and ointment while I got a glass of apple juice. "And I needed another pain pill." While I drank my juice, Joe tended to my back.

When he finished, he said, "I'm going to run the rest of the supplies back upstairs."

"Okay. Why don't you go ahead and jump in the shower? I'll bring Bob in and lock up."

He gave me a tired sigh before kissing the top of my head. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Go," I practically shooed him out of the room, feeling better because I was doing something to make his life easier. A few minutes later, Bob climbed the porch steps and stuck his wet nose against the glass, signaling to me that he was ready to come back inside. As soon as I opened the door, he nuzzled his head against my thigh, stepping on my toes. "Hey, buddy." I reached down to pet him. "Did you miss me?" He licked my hand in response. "I guess that was a yes." I smiled.

By the time I made it back upstairs, Joe was out of the shower and dressed in a pair of gym shorts. Considering that he usually slept in the nude, I was glad for his consideration. He pulled the covers back, inviting me to get in first. After I got settled, he got in behind me and pulled me against him, spooning me.

"I'm worried about you. That panic attack scared the hell out of me. Are you sure you don't need to go get checked out?" His voice held a tiredness in it that made me feel like I was too much trouble. I'd worried him a lot today. First the panic attack when I found the cellar and then my spontaneous decision to cut my hair.

"I'm fine." I rubbed the corded muscles on his forearm, trying to get him to relax. "I have a follow up appointment with Dr. Powell on Monday. And tomorrow Ranger's taking me to see the shrink." I tried to keep the anger out of my voice as I whispered, "I'm sick of doctors."

"We just want you to be healthy," he said and tightened his arms around me before asking, "will you tell me about your nightmare? The one that made you believe I would leave you in that place?"

I stopped stroking his arm. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my hallucinations in the cellar. They made me doubt my sanity and after what I did to my hair earlier, I was worried that I really was losing my mind. But by the pained sound of his voice, I knew my accusations had hurt him. "Toward the end, I was so weak from hunger," I tried to explain, "and then I got sick. Lots of things weren't making sense. I couldn't tell the difference between a nightmare and what was really happening." I swallowed hard, unable to believe what I was about to confess. "Sometimes, I even thought I heard the women talking to me," I whispered.

Joe traced his finger lightly up and down my arm, silently encouraging me to continue.

"You know I'm not good at saying I love you," I said in a choked sob. "I thought I was going to die down there without everyone knowing how much I love them. That was my biggest regret. I tried to make peace with myself by calling up special memories of everyone I loved and saying goodbye to them. It sounds stupid, but I was hoping you all could feel how much I love you."

He kissed the back of my neck, nuzzling his nose against my skin. "I did feel it, Cupcake. I feel it all the time." He was silent for a few minutes and then asked, "What memory did you recall about us?"

He loosened his hold so I could turn over and lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Do you remember how we were sitting on the couch with Bob earlier tonight, my head lying on your chest just like it is now?" Tears silently streamed down my face, wetting his skin.

"Yeah," he whispered unsteadily.

"That's how I wanted you to remember me." He put his fingers under my chin, lifting my face to him as he met my lips, kissing me softly. It was one of the sweetest kisses he'd ever given me.

"I love you, Cupcake."

I sniffed. "I love you too, Joe."

* * *

The next morning, I woke up wrapped in Joe's arms. Because he held me through the night, I'd been able to sleep, albeit fitfully. I wondered what I would do when I was once again on my own with only myself to protect me against the nightmares and the ugly memories that plagued me.

"Are you thinking about getting up some time today?" I felt his chest vibrating with laughter against my back.

"What time is it?" I moaned and arched, stretching like a cat. The moan turned into a wince and I sucked in a pained breath. I'd forgotten about my ribs and now they were burning.

"It's seven. You better get up and get ready. Ranger will be here soon to take you to your doctor's appointment." I detected the bitterness in his voice, but what could I do? It wasn't my idea to see this doctor.

"I don't want to go," I confided, hoping that he'd agree and somehow get me out of going.

"I know you don't, but it's a good idea. Talking to someone can only help," he said as he got up and went downstairs. When he came back, he had my medication and a bottle.

"Don't you have to be at work?" I asked after I swallowed the pills. It was rare to wake up with Joe still in bed with me. Usually, he was already showered and dressed before he kissed me awake and told me he was leaving for work.

A serious look came over his face and he sat down on the side of the bed. "The feds located Durant's apartment." He carefully watched me for any reaction.

Just the sound of his name made me cringe and pull the sheet up around me. "Where?"

"About fifteen minutes from the cellar in Hammonton Township. Even though it's out of our jurisdiction, my Captain wants me to be the liaison between the department and the feds until this investigation is wrapped up. Which means I have to meet them at his apartment this morning."

"Is that who you were yelling at last night?"

"Yelling?" His cop face slid in place as he acted like he didn't know what I was talking about. But I knew Joe very well. He understood exactly what I was referring to.

"I heard you yelling at someone on the phone."

"Just one of the guys from work." He shrugged it off and kissed me soundly.

"I never asked about the case you were working on. Were you able to get it wrapped up before you found out I was missing?"

"My case isn't important. Getting you back was all I could think about."

"I don't want to cause trouble with your job."

"There is nothing more important than you." His words had a finality to them, letting me know he was done with this conversation. He went into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. I glanced over at his bedside table, thinking it wouldn't hurt to have a look. Maybe if I knew who he was in trouble with, I could do something to fix it. Besides, I've never been able to leave a mystery alone and right now I badly wanted to know who he'd been yelling at last night. But by the time I scooted over to his side of the bed, being careful of my sore ribs, and reached for the phone, the text box was fading away. Not wanting to violate his privacy any more than I already had, I put the phone back where it had been and scooted over to my side of the bed, snuggling into the blanket.

I opened my eyes when I heard Joe rummaging in his dresser drawers. He had his towel wrapped around him, low on his hips as drops of water ran down his chest. He'd done this a thousand times before, but I couldn't help the way my heart started to race in fear. There was nothing sexual or threatening about what he was doing, yet I was having difficulty drawing in air. Unaware of my burgeoning panic, he continued getting dressed. As soon as he was covered, my breathing began to improve. He walked to my side of the bed, holding out his hand. "Come on, Cupcake, let's see about getting you presentable."

Since I bathed last night, all I had to do was change my bandages and get dressed. He helped me into the bathroom and when he reached for the back of my night shirt to take it off. I tensed. Sensing my discomfort, he handed me the bandages and ointment and said, "I'll go down and let Bob out and start the coffee. Come down when you get done and I'll change the ones you can't reach."

"Okay," I nodded my thanks that he didn't make a big deal about my not wanting to take my night shirt off in front of him. The scars were a big part of it, but I was also uncomfortable at the thought of being in a vulnerable position like I had been with Durant. Those feelings weren't fair to Joe. He wasn't the one who'd hurt me. This was all Durant's fault and it made me want to kill him all over again.

When I was done tending to the wounds I could reach, I dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a soft white T-shirt. I was pleased with what Mr. Alexander had done to my hair last night. He'd taken a round brush and a hairdryer and smoothed my newly shorn hair into a sleek style that looked nothing like me. I ran my fingers through the back of my hair where it was shorter and pushed the longer pieces in the front to the side. I decided I liked it and was going to make an effort to keep straightening what curls I had left.

Since my ribs were still too sore to wear a bra, I went back into the bedroom and found a blue button-down shirt to cover up my unrestrained breasts. It was the best I could do without going to my apartment. The therapist was just going to have to deal. I carried some bandages and ointment downstairs for Joe to take care of the rest of the wounds. It was either that or have my mom or Mary Lou come over and apply the bandages and I didn't like those options either. Just as he finished, someone knocked on the front door.

* * *

**Ranger POV**

It was early when I pulled into Morelli's driveway and parked behind his SUV. I knocked on the front door again, even though I'd already knocked twice. With any luck they would be up and dressed for the day. I didn't relish seeing Stephanie walking around in her nightshirt straight from sleeping in another man's arms. My stomach soured at the thought.

I did another survey of my surroundings, noting my men parked on the street. I had another team parked in the alley covering both entrances to the home. There was no danger to her, but I was doing my best to protect her from nosey reporters. So far, they haven't caught wind of the story. I was surprised it wasn't in the paper this morning, but I had no doubt it would be online by the afternoon. It had all the elements that kept a story lingering for weeks if not months.

Morelli finally opened the door. The dog poked his head out, sniffing my hand and then I saw Stephanie coming from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand. Relief washed over me to see that she was okay… and dressed. She ran her hand through her hair subconsciously. I was out of my depth. Do I compliment her or act as if last night never happened?

She tried to peer around me. "Where's Hector? I thought he was bringing breakfast?"

"I thought we'd eat on the way," I said not bothering to step inside.

"Let me get my coat and purse," she sighed.

Morelli stepped out onto the porch with me and shut the door. "The fed's found Durant's apartment. I'm going to head down there and see it for myself."

I nodded. Agent Kinkade had called me this morning to fill me in on the new development. But I'd learned my lesson yesterday about leaving Stephanie alone right now. Her well being was more important than satisfying my curiosity about Durant. After her appointment, if she was feeling well, I'd leave her in Hector's care and then I'd check out the apartment.

"Does Stephanie know they found his apartment?" I asked.

"I told her." When I raised my eyebrows, he added, "She took it well."

The door opened behind Morelli. "I'm ready," she said.

I knew she was only going because I asked, but she could have refused. I was grateful she hadn't because I was worried about her.

She faced Morelli. "Are you going to be here when I get back?"

"I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I'll be back as soon as I can. One of Ranger's men will stay with you until then."

"I don't need anyone to babysit me."

I turned away, unable to watch as Morelli pulled her in for a hug.

"It would make me feel better," he said in a smooth voice that made me want to punch him in his mouth. Or break a few teeth. Or put him in traction for a few years.

She didn't protest anymore about babysitters. I held my hand out to her. "Let's go, Babe." I helped her down the stairs and into the car. I drove for a few minutes and after pulling onto Hamilton, I looked at her from the corner of my eyes. I'd feared she'd never again sit in my Turbo, but here we were, riding through town toward the same diner where we met. We hadn't been there since that first meeting. We were both quiet. I wish she'd give me some idea of what she was thinking.

As we turned into the parking lot, she jerked her head in my direction, eyes wide with disbelief. I could see the gears in her mind grinding with questions. But she didn't voice any of them. I came around and opened her door, taking her arm as we walked into the diner. The booth we'd sat at was open and I considered that a good sign that today was going to be much better than yesterday.

"Is it just the two of you?" the waitress asked.

"Yes," I said pointing to the booth in the back. "That one will be fine." I started walking, not waiting for her to give her consent. The waitress followed on our tail and dropped a couple menus in front of us.

After we were seated, she asked, "What can I get you, hun?" If she'd had a piece of gum in her mouth she'd have popped it to punctuate her sentence.

Stephanie quickly looked at the menu. "The blueberry pancakes look good, and I'll have bacon on the side with coffee and orange juice, please."

The waitress wrote Stephanie's order on her pad and turned her attention to me. I took Stephanie's menu and placed it on top of mine, and said, "I'll have the same." The waitress took the menus and left.

When I looked at Stephanie, she was staring at me with her eyebrows raised. "Is the temple closed today?"

Knowing it makes her happy when I smile, I gave her what she wanted. The full grill. The waitress, who was on her way back to our table with the coffee pot, stumbled and sloshed hot coffee on the ground. She steadied herself and continued to us, pouring our coffee and left to get our food.

When our orders were delivered, Stephanie smothered her pancakes in syrup. She finished and sat the bottle down. I picked it up and as I began pouring, I caught her giving me a strange look. "Are you going to detox after this? Am I going to have to sit through a Sugar lover's Anonymous meeting? I can't be your sponsor. I'm not ready to go bland." I stared at her for a beat and then laughed. She was feeling more like herself every day. For the first time since we found her, I thought she just might be alright.

We ate in silence for a few minutes and then she asked, "Would you mind stopping at Mary Lou's on the way home? I'd like to pick up Rex."

"Sure." She rarely asked for anything even though I'd give her everything I have. I've told her she has all the power, but she doesn't believe me.

We spent the rest of the meal making small talk. Stephanie ate most of her food, but her stomach wasn't back to its normal capacity yet and I imagined she was anxious about the appointment with Dr. Mereck. I paid the bill and we got back in the car. She was walking slowly as if she was on her way to the gallows or a life sentence at the New Jersey State Penn. I wished I could convince her it wasn't going to be so bad.

I came to a stop at the light and looked over at her. She had her hand flat on her thighs, tense about where we were headed. I reached across the console, turning her hand over and lacing my fingers between hers. I wanted her to know that I was here for her… always. I'm an intelligent man, capable of leading a team into war, but I couldn't find the right words that would reassure her. Mostly, I wanted her to know that I loved her, but if I said that it would only complicate things. She already had enough to deal with.

I pulled into the underground parking garage of the Medical Arts Building. "Babe, this isn't going to be as bad as you think."

"How would you know? Have you ever been dragged to a head doctor against your will?"

She thought I was strong and wouldn't ever need help, but she was wrong. I was quiet for a minute debating on how much I was going to share. "I have been, yes."

Her mouth hung open, stunned that I'd admitted I'd needed help in the past. Her mind was busy trying to figure out why I'd needed to see a therapist. "There's nothing wrong with getting help," I told her.

Her cheeks tinged pink, worrying that she'd offended me. "No. There's nothing wrong with getting help if the person wants it."

She'd had to endure so much the last few weeks and all of it was against her will. I wondered if I was making things worse by gently insisting that she come today. "You don't have to do this," I said. "I can take you back to Morelli's or anywhere else you want to go."

She thought about it for a minute, struggling to decide. I wished I could read her.

"Come on." I got out and came around to her side of the car and helped her out. "I'm just asking you to meet her. Can you do that?"

She shrugged, noncommittally.

We stepped off the elevator and around the corner to suite 304. The waiting room was small with only four chairs. The receptionist, a matronly woman with gray hair, sat behind a desk. Stephanie went to sit down while I signed her in and took the clipboard that was handed to me. I sat down beside her, trying not to notice her right leg bouncing. "It's alright," I tried to convince her. "Just talk to the doctor and tell her what you're thinking. Answer whatever questions she has. It'll be painless."

She looked at me like she didn't believe me. Instead of offering platitudes that I knew she wouldn't appreciate, I reached for her hand to hold while I filled out her paperwork for her. A few minutes after I handed the forms back to the receptionist, the door to the inner office opened and a teenage girl with green hair walked out. "I'll see you again next week," a small blonde woman said from behind the girl, her voice high and thin, sounding like a squeaking mouse. I cringed, immediately knowing that Stephanie was not going to connect with this middle-aged cheerleader.

I stood up just as the outer door closed behind the green haired girl. Stephanie remained seated as the miniature blonde completely ignored her in favor of speaking to me. She bit her lip as her eyes travel down my body and then back up, checking out my muscles and other attributes. When she finally managed to drag her eyes back to my face, she smiled brightly, and held out her hand. "Hello, I'm Dr. Mereck," she practically purred, "and you are?"

It took a lot of willpower not to let my anger show. I was used to dealing with the unwanted attention of women, but her obvious interest was inappropriate. I made no move to shake her hand. "I'm Carlos Manoso and this is your patient, Stephanie Plum." I held my hand out for Stephanie. She simply stared at it and I thought she might try to make a run for it, but she finally put her hand in mine and stood.

The receptionist came around her desk and handed the doctor a file. "Here you are, Dr. Mereck."

The doctor recovered her blunder quickly and looked down at the file. "It's nice to meet you Stephanie. Come inside and we'll get better acquainted."

"I'll be right here when you get through," I said.

With a forlorn expression on her face, Stephanie followed Dr. Mereck into her office.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

**Talk To The Hand**

I'd spent many long hours sitting in crappy cars on stakeouts, but the hour I'd spent in the shrink's office had been one of the longest of my life. I'd rather wrestle Punky Balog, my not so favorite Vaseline covered octogenarian skip, than endure something like that again. But now that we were back in the Turbo and on our way to pick up Rex, I felt nothing but relief that the therapy session was behind me.

I cast a sideways glance at Ranger to try and get a read on how he was feeling. Pointless attempt… I know. But he had to be traumatized after being drooled all over by that doctor. I couldn't blame her, though. He was something to behold in his black button-down shirt and black slacks tailored to effortlessly drape over his muscles. Her reaction reminded me of the way Bob's eyes light up when he unexpectedly spots a squirrel in the backyard. Normally, my jealousy would have reared its ugly head, but in this case, I was embarrassed by her behavior. I felt like I should apologize to Ranger on behalf of my gender. Any idiot could have seen that he wasn't interested. In fact, he looked pretty angry.

It didn't get much better once I was in the office alone with her. I had to use all my mental fortitude to endure the sound of her voice. My poor ears. I was convinced she'd sucked a helium tank dry. At times, the pitch got so high I visibly winced until she took a breath.

One look at the pampered princess and I knew she wouldn't be able to help me, even if I'd been open to the process, which I wasn't. She asked question after question, trying to get me to talk about my 'dreadful experience' as she called it. My silence did nothing to deter her. She tried to empathize with me, as if she could possibly relate to what I'd been through. But we had nothing in common. Her peppy approach to life made mine appear dull. Even before Durant kidnapped me, I felt like a loser. My life was going nowhere. But I must have done something right because I was alive, wasn't I? I'd made it out of the cellar. I didn't think that the good doctor could have done that.

While she tried to get me to open up, the strangest thoughts ran through my mind. I was obsessed with imagining what she'd been doing while I'd been locked away in the cellar. As she talked, I constructed scenarios of her going on dates with men dressed in fine suits, eating at fancy restaurants, and leaving food on her plate because she didn't want to get fat or appear a glutton… while I'd spent countless hours in the cellar with my stomach grinding painfully from hunger. I imagined her in her clean warm bed, cuddled up to one of her besotted dates… while I was freezing in the cold cellar. And I imagined a masseuse working her tired muscles and then slathering expensive lotions onto her unblemished skin… while my skin was being split open with a leather belt and cold ointment was rubbed over the wounds by a deranged serial killer.

I studied her and felt nothing but anger. No. There was no way she could help me. There was no way this tiny Barbie doll could possibly understand what I'd lived through. Probably the worst thing to ever happen to her was chipping a nail. I was getting myself worked up again and I needed to calm down. Judging other people on their life choices wasn't the kind of person I was. I tried to mind my own business and here I was tearing this woman apart in my mind. I should be ashamed.

Ranger stopped at a red light and looked over at me. As if he could hear my thoughts, he said, "You didn't like her."

Even though it wasn't a question, I still answered. "No."

"I'll find another therapist."

"Don't bother," I quickly said. "I only came because you were worried about me, but you have nothing to be concerned about. I'm going to be fine."

Sensing that I wasn't going to change my mind, he let it go, but I knew it was only temporarily. "At least let me get the prescriptions filled," he said. "You might find that they help."

"I'll take the medication… for now." That had been the only good thing to come out of the appointment. The panic attacks I'd been experiencing were debilitating and they came out of nowhere. I was concerned and more than a little afraid. I was hoping the anti-anxiety medication and the tranquilizers would get me through until my mind straightened out.

He seemed to be pleased to hear that I wasn't arguing about taking the medication. I'm sure he was hoping it would work so well that I'd have no choice but to see another doctor in order to get my prescription renewed.

Even though I wasn't personally able to relate to Dr. Mereck, that didn't mean she wasn't knowledgeable in her field. She told me that my brain was resilient, and that it would take time to heal, but that I might experience flashbacks and nightmares while it does. She also warned me that I was dissociating myself from what happened in the cellar and that the panic attacks were a symptom of PTSD that would only get worse unless I found a way to deal with what was causing them. To help combat the symptoms, she suggested I try something called grounding. I was supposed to pick something comforting that involved the five senses and when I started to panic, she wanted me to focus on whatever I'd chosen as if it were a talisman to ground me to the present instead of the past where the memories would consume me.

Oh, and she wanted me to exercise. I was supposed to take up yoga or running… anything to keep the body active. For a minute, I wondered if Ranger had paid her to say that. Then she asked me something that left me stunned. "Do you have thoughts of hurting yourself or others?"

Where did she get this stuff? The only person I'd wanted to hurt was already dead. "I'm not going to kill myself if that's what you're asking," I told her. "I fought way too hard to live."

She nodded her head, glad that I'd alleviated her fears, but her eyes told me she wasn't one hundred percent sure she believed me. "Tell me what was going through your mind when you chopped your hair off."

Finally, we were getting to the reason for this visit. I'd wondered when she would ask. Since I didn't want to sound like a crazy person, I couldn't tell her the truth, that I felt great while I was cutting my hair. I felt powerful. I was in control of something for a change. Instead, I didn't say anything at all. But that didn't stop her from writing on her damn notepad. I wanted to rip it out of her hands and see what she really thought of me. It would probably read something like… patient is displaying severe signs of CRAZY… like the bat shit kind. She should be admitted straight away to the New Jersey State Lunatic Asylum (a.k.a. Trenton Psychiatric Hospital for those who are politically correct.)

Ranger's voice interrupted my thoughts. As he drove, I listened to him place a call to Hector, asking him to pick up my prescriptions that Dr. Mereck had called into the pharmacy and to meet us at Joe's with lunch. I took that to mean that Hector would be taking over babysitting duty and that Ranger would be leaving me. When he hung up, I asked, "Are you going to meet the agents at Durant's apartment?"

He waited until we pulled into Mary Lou's driveway to respond. "The agents have called in a profiler to put together a psychological analysis of Durant. He's supposed to be there this afternoon. I'd like to hear what he has to say."

I wouldn't mind hearing that myself. I thought I had a better idea than anybody else about what made Durant tick, but it'd be nice to know if the conclusions I'd drawn about him were correct. I also didn't want Ranger to leave me, but I wasn't going to ask him to stay. I nodded and got out of the car. Mare had her front door open and was waiting for me as I made my way to her, with Ranger following close behind. She hugged me and led the way into her living room. Rex's habitat was sitting on the coffee table.

"Hey, buddy." I waved as I leaned over his habitat. "Remember me?"

As soon as he heard my voice, he wiggled out of his can and looked up at me, whiskers twitching. I reached in and pulled him out, bringing him close to my chest for comfort. Ranger had come up behind me and picked up the enclosure to take to the car. I'd never been more grateful for Rex's new larger accommodations. Had I not gotten it for him for Christmas he would have died.

I turned to Mare, tears running down my cheeks. "Thanks for taking care of him."

"He's welcome anytime." She gently squeezed my shoulders. "So are you. You know that, right?"

Too choked up to respond, I nodded and turned to walk back to the car. She called out, "Call me later, okay?"

I stopped at the car door and turned back to her, nodding my head again. It seemed like that was the only thing I was capable of doing. After I was seated, Ranger shut the door and came around to the driver's side. It was a short ride to Joe's, so I held Rex cuddled up on my breast. He was asleep in no time.

* * *

**Hector POV**

I'd stopped by the pharmacy to pick up Angelita's medication and then picked up her favorite meatball subs from Pino's. Now I was parked at the curb in front of the cop's house, waiting for the Boss to bring Angelita back. As soon as I saw them drive up, I got out and made my way to her side of the car, opening her door for her. I smiled when I saw the little rodent nestled against her chest. She had the kindest heart of anyone I knew. "Good Morning Angelita," I said as I held my hand out to help her out.

Without juggling the little guy awake, she eased herself out of the car and dug in her purse to get her front door key. I kissed her cheek before taking the key from her and walking with her to the porch. "I brought the items you asked for," I told her as I pushed the door open and placed the duffle bag on the couch.

"Thanks," she said as she followed me inside at a slower pace. The dog circled my legs, smelling the food in the bag. "Give me a minute and I'll put Bob in the downstairs bathroom while we eat.

"No, you sit down and rest," I told her. "I will take care of the dog."

"Where do you want this?" Ranger asked her, holding Rex's habitat.

"The kitchen is fine," she said. Ranger carried it through to the kitchen and left it on the counter.

After I closed the dog in the bathroom with water and food, I came back into the living room. Ranger was looking down at her as she stroked Rex's back. "Here is your prescriptions and I brought meatball subs." I put both bags on the coffee table and gently scooped the little guy up. "I'll put him back in his habitat so you can eat."

Even though I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, I could hear Ranger ask, "Will you be okay if I leave?"

"I'll be fine. Hector's here, but you know I don't need a babysitter."

Knowing how she felt about being 'babysat', I reentered the room and sank down on the couch, hoping to diffuse her temper. I looked up at Ranger who still had his coat on but hesitated to leave. "Did you hear that Boss? I have been demoted to babysitter." She smiled but fought the urge to laugh. "Did you tell her that I do not read bedtime stories?" I asked Ranger. She started to snicker and then elbowed me gently in my ribs. I let out an umph in protest. Her bony elbow hurt. "Is she what they call a problem child?" She laughed harder and then tossed the remote at me. Ranger and I both joined in the laughter, pleased that she had her sense of humor back.

Ranger shook his head at our shenanigans, but he was smiling when he gave her a pointed look. "Don't forget to take your medication." After that reminder, he kissed the top of her head and left.

She picked up the pharmacy bag and read the directions on both bottles. I unwrapped the subs while she swallowed the pills, pulling a face as they hit her tongue. While we ate, I pointed at the satellite box connected to the big screen TV. "He has Telemundo. We watch my show?"

She stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. "What show do you watch?"

"You will see." I began punching buttons, stopping when I landed on a commercial advertising the upcoming show, Triunfo del amor.

"What does that mean?" she asked as she burrowed closer to me.

"Triumph of Love." I patted her leg, smiling and nodding enthusiastically. "Do not worry, you will like it."

"What's it about?"

"Victoria and Juan Pablo had a baby. The la niña pequeña was taken from them. She grows up and falls in love with Max, but Max has another woman on the side." My mood turned dark as I realized the cheating asshole in the telenovela was similar to Morelli. I had to force a smile to continue. "It is a good show."

She frowned at my reaction but didn't inquire about what had upset me. "You watch this every day?"

"Every day." I nodded. "If I work, I record and watch later."

Her mouth hung open as she tried to reconcile the fact that she was sitting on the couch next to a tatted up, Spanish soap opera loving, ex-gang member. As we watched the show, she became more and more interested in the drama. The character that played Max was definite eye candy for both of us, but soon she was having a hard time holding her head up. I placed a throw pillow on my lap and motioned for her to lie down.

* * *

**Ranger POV**

The apartment building where Durant lived was nondescript. In fact, it was unsettling how much it reminded me of Stephanie's. I parked near the government issued SUV's and walked across the parking lot. A couple of younger agents were going door-to-door asking the other tenants about Durant and any suspicious activity. As I passed them on my way to the stairs, I caught part of their conversation. They were saying it was pointless to keep knocking on doors because no one knew anything about anyone in this building. Looks like Durant had picked the perfect place to set up his home base.

I continued up the stairs to the third floor where all the activity was centered. A creepy feeling crawled along my skin as I entered Durant's apartment. The cellar had been filled with suffering, but this place had housed pure evil. Agent Kinkade looked up from her conversation with Agent Shaw and nodded to me to indicate she'd be with me in a minute. While I waited for them to finish talking, I looked around the apartment. The living room carpet was worn. The only furnishings were a recliner facing the big screen TV with an end table beside it, and two wooden display cabinets. The larger cabinet was along the right-hand side of the wall and the smaller one was situated on the left.

Morelli came up beside me. "This place is spooky, isn't it?"

It wasn't necessary to respond. We could all feel the malignant darkness that hung heavy in the air. I stepped closer to the larger cabinet. It was lit up from the inside and had four shelves filled with eighteen-inch porcelain dolls. They were dressed in the same corresponding vintage outfits as the women in the cellar. I noticed that all the dolls resembled Stephanie, complete with curly brown hair and blue eyes. I quickly counted them. Five on the first three shelves and four on the bottom shelf. Nineteen dolls in total. Starting at the top left, the first doll wore a yellow dress matching the dress worn by Durant's first victim, Jenny Pucket.

"You see it too, don't you?" Morelli asked, but didn't wait for a response. "All these dolls look like Stephanie and they're wearing dresses similar to the one's the dead women were wearing."

My eyes settled on the ninth doll. It was the same doll that Stephanie had been holding in the picture when she'd been dressed in the red and black dress.

I could feel my anger bubbling.

I turned away to look at anything but those damn dolls. My eyes landed on the recliner sitting in the middle of the living room. I could envision him kicked back with a plate of food, watching TV after a tough day of torturing innocent women. And when he wasn't watching TV, he was sitting there staring at the dolls, daydreaming about what he was going to do to the next woman.

"Mr. Manoso," Agent Kinkade approached with a box in her hand. "Can you identify these items of clothing? We have reason to believe they are Stephanie's."

"I'm not certain about the jeans, but this is her coat and sweater," I said. "I've never seen Stephanie wearing these boots before, though."

"Could the boots be new?" Agent Kinkade asked.

"Possible. I usually put a tracker in her shoes, but only the one's she wears regularly."

Morell made a sound that had the agents casting covert glances to gauge whether things were going to come to blows. It was clear they'd already asked him the same questions, but he didn't like everyone knowing that I tracked his girlfriend. It was a territory thing that he was going to have to get over. My trackers had saved her life numerous times and I wasn't going to stop. In fact, I'd probably use more trackers than ever after this.

"We have eight other boxes just like this on the shelf in his closet. We think he kept all the items the women were wearing when he abducted them. There are also photo albums for each of his victims and something else you should see." Her lips thinned as if she disliked what she was about to reveal. She turned to head down the hall. Morelli lowered his head, looking at the carpet. I wasn't going to like whatever is was she had to show me. I followed her with Morelli on my heels.

As soon as I entered the bedroom, I stopped short. All four walls were covered in thousands of pictures of Stephanie. Some of them were of her by herself and some were of her with other people. Lula, Connie, and Vinnie were in a lot of them as well as Morelli and even me. My men hadn't even escaped having their pictures taken. I've been a part of several stalking investigations and this was one of the worst cases I'd ever seen.

I stepped closer, making my way around the room, taking in all the pictures. "He wasn't lying to her when he threatened her nieces and the rest of her family," Agent Kinkade said as she pointed to the pictures of Stephanie's parents, her sister, and her nieces. I wanted to stomp on his face and grind it into the ground when I saw the faces of those innocent girls while they played outside in their yard where they were supposed to be safe.

The only furniture in the room was a desk set up against the wall opposite the door. On it was a computer with a thirty-inch monitor. I stepped closer and saw several SD cards lying on the wooden surface as well as a high-tech infrared camera. The camera was capable of taking pictures and video in the dark which explained how he was able to stand over her and capture her image while she slept.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I wanted to hit something or kill someone. I had so much anger coursing through me, I thought I would explode. As if sensing my turmoil, Agent Kinkade backed away and gave me several moments. This had all happened under our noses and no one had noticed a damn thing. How? How could I have not seen it?

I needed to know what was on those cards. So far, I haven't seen any pictures of Stephanie naked or in a compromising position. "Have you come across any nude photos or videos," I managed to choke the words out.

"No, nothing so far," Agent Kinkade rushed to assure me.

I breathed a sigh of relief and left the room. I had to get out of there. I didn't stop walking until I was back at the Turbo, jerking the door open. I was glad I'd driven this car. I could hit the Atlantic City Expressway and open it wide. I needed to feel the rush of speed and let my mind go blank. Focus on nothing but the road.

In no time at all, I was nearing Trenton. My eyes were beginning to get heavy and it was hard to keep focused on the road. I hadn't gotten a good nights sleep in weeks. First, I'd been consumed with worry about finding Stephanie and now I was worried about the toll her experiences would have on her emotional and mental well-being. And today's excursion into Durant's apartment hadn't helped. I knew Stephanie would ask questions about what I'd seen and what the agents had found, but I didn't think it would be good for her to know too many details. I also didn't want to lie to her. I was going to have to walk a fine line, so I didn't cause her more upset.

Before I left this morning to take Stephanie to the psychiatrist, I asked Ella to prepare her favorite dinner and have it ready by six. I stopped by Rangeman to pick it up and was quickly on my way to Morelli's. I parked at the curb in front of his house and knocked on the door. Hector let me inside. Behind him, I could see Stephanie sitting up on the couch, stretching and rubbing her eyes. It was good that she'd managed to get some rest.

"I will bring breakfast tomorrow," Hector said as he put on his coat and kissed her forehead. "We watch show again."

"I never say no to free food."

Hector smiled. "No, you do not. Unlike most women, you are very easy to please."

Hector closed the door behind him while I placed the insulated bag of food on the coffee table. Stephanie looked so soft and fragile sitting there. All I wanted to do was protect her. I sat down beside her, snuggling her close to me. The channel was on Telemundo. Given Hector's predilection for telenovela's, I had a pretty good idea what they'd been watching, but I wanted to see if she'd fess up. "What were you watching?" I nodded toward the TV.

She pulled back, tilted her head and watched me carefully, getting ready to evaluate my answer. "Have you ever watched a telenovela?"

I couldn't help it. I flashed her my brightest smile. "Every Thursday night at nine, my Abuela Carlotta's house was full of women, eating, laughing, and watching their stories."

Her eyes lit up at my admission. It wasn't often I disclosed personal information to anyone, including her. "That wasn't what I asked." She elbowed me in the side. "I asked if _you _ever watch them?"

I tried to get my face to go blank, but I couldn't keep from smiling, not this time, and I didn't care that I was rapidly losing control around her.

"You did." She laughed and snuggled into me again, enjoying knowing something about me that most people didn't know. "It's okay. You're secret's safe with me." She glanced at the bag on the coffee table and like Pavlov's dog, her stomach growled. "What did you bring?"

"Ella thought you might be hungry."

"Ella's trying to fatten me up." She sat forward, opening the bag. There were two large plastic trays with lids on them. Hers was obviously the one with a big helping of macaroni and cheese made with artisan cheeses that she loved so much. My plate, which she gladly passed to me, had grilled chicken on a bed of wild rice and broccoli on the side. I'd reminded Ella not to serve asparagus this time.

"It's sad that your own housekeeper saves the good stuff for me." She twisted her lips and shook her head in mock pity for me. "You can see how much she loves me. She didn't waste any space on my plate with filler."

"Filler?"

"The green stuff. You know… filler?" she said as if all the sugar I'd consumed at breakfast had impaired me in some way.

I gave her an exasperated look and almost rolled my eyes. She caught me and began laughing. After that, we ate in comfortable silence, letting the noise from the TV continue in the background. When her bites started to slow down, she asked, "So, how's Rangeman? Tank must be glad you're back at the helm. I know how much he loves schmoozing clients."

Her sarcasm wasn't lost on me. Tank had been miserable for the last several weeks. He was worried about Stephanie and he was bearing the full weight of the company. I put my plate down, suddenly turning serious. "The business could have gone bankrupt. Getting you back was all that mattered."

I thought my honest confession would have made her happy, but instead she looked pained. "I wouldn't want you to lose your company because of me. Your work is important to you. You're the job, remember?"

A feeling of deep regret settled in. "Most times that's true," I admitted, "but not where you're concerned." I sat my plate on the coffee table and stroked her lower lip with my thumb. "While you were gone, I couldn't think of anything but finding you."

She visibly swallowed and pulled away. This was getting us into dangerous territory. I'd already gone through the painful conversation where I told her friendship was all I had to offer. I knew she valued our friendship and didn't want to lose it, but I also knew that she was in love with me and I had to be careful not to hurt her worse than Durant had.

As if she sensed where my thoughts had gone and didn't want to have the same difficult conversation again, she said, "You'd have been fine." After reassuring me, she changed the subject. "Are you going to tell me what the feds found at Durant's apartment?"

"Minimal furnishings," I said, carefully. "Typical bachelor pad."

She lifted her eyebrows for me to go on.

"In his living room he had a large display cabinet filled with dolls and a smaller cabinet filled with model cars just like he told you."

She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped as if maybe she didn't want to know the answer. But then she blurted her question. "How many dolls were in the case?" She didn't blink or look away while she waited.

I didn't want to draw out the suspense. I quickly told her, "Nineteen."

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees as she stared at the floor, shaking her head. We both knew that Durant wasn't going to stop after he killed her. She finally lifted her head and met my eyes. "So, he would have taken at least ten more women before he stopped—if he stopped?" She knew I had more to tell, but when I didn't say anything she demanded. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it."

"Agent Kinkade told me the profiler believes Durant would have found a way to keep justifying his actions and continue killing until someone stopped him permanently."

She sighed and looked back down at her hands—the same hands that had beaten a man to within a hair's breadth of death.

"He also had a bedroom with pictures of you and everyone in your life taped to the wall." My voice was even, but she could hear the underlying tone of anger as I waited for her to connect the dots. "They also found photo albums filled with pictures of the other women as he stalked them."

She swallowed and tried breathing slowly. I was afraid she was going to vomit. She was probably wondering if there were naked pictures of her from the cellar or her apartment. I was worried another panic attack was in the works. "What kind of pictures? Was I—?"

Touching her right now would be the wrong thing to do, so I kept my hands on my thighs and calmly said, "No. They were mostly surveillance photos. He had an entire room plastered with pictures of you going into Morelli's house, your parent's house—pictures of you and me outside the bond's office."

Sensing that I was angry with myself for letting him get so close to her and not protecting her, she reached out and took my hand in hers, squeezing gently. "You couldn't have known."

I met her eyes. "I'm supposed to make sure you're safe and I didn't."

Her face became serious. "Do you think I'm responsible for what he did to me?" she asked. I gave her a look that told her how ridiculous that question was. "Well, if I'm not responsible, then neither are you."

"He had pictures of you that were taken in your apartment." I quickly got to my feet, unable to sit still for a minute longer. "He stood over you while you slept." Unable to meet her eyes, I turned my back to her. "I went to Miami and left you at his mercy."

She stood up, embracing me from behind, and let her cheek rest on my back. "He was a twisted man," she said. "I won't let you blame yourself."

I put my hands over hers as they lay against my stomach, enjoying the contact of her body. We stood like that for a while and then I turned around, still holding her close. "Your clothes, boots, and jewelry were found in a box in his closet. The boots were new. I hadn't put trackers in them yet."

"I bought them that day. They were so comfortable; I wore them out of the store."

"Would you like to revisit the conversation where I asked if you'd be willing to have a tracker injected under your skin?"

"No." She smiled, sadly. "Because right now, I might say yes, even though it's not the way I want to live my life."

I hadn't liked her answer last time and I liked even less now, but I knew it was pointless to try and change her mind.

Realizing how close we were to each other, she stepped out of my arms putting some distance between us. "What did Durant's neighbors have to say about him?" Just as I was going to respond, she threw her hand up, stopping me. "No, wait, let me see if I can guess. He seemed so normal… right?" She rolled her eyes and sat back down on the couch. "And they were shocked to find out the kind of monster they were living next to?"

"You got it in one." I sat back down beside her.

"Are the feds going to arrest me?"

"I think they're grateful to you. Governor Allen, from Indiana, is pulling strings to have the case closed quickly."

"Ashley's uncle?"

"You talk about these women as if you knew them personally," I said. "It doesn't sound healthy."

She shrugged as if she didn't have an explanation.

My eyes locked with hers, examining her closely. It was time to lay some cards on the table. "I know you never had a problem with your memory, Babe. Why did you lie to me?"


	42. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER 42**

**The Fat Lady Has Sung**

Our eyes were locked in an intense exchange. By sheer force of will—or Vulcan mind meld—Ranger was trying to compel me to spill my guts. I held my ground, neither of us willing to give an inch. I knew he'd eventually get around to questioning my memory loss, but that didn't mean I was going to confirm or deny his suspicions. I thought it fitting to take a page out of _his_ book and remain stoically silent. He probably thought I was being stubborn. It wouldn't occur to him that I was protecting him from becoming an accessory after the fact to my crime.

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Joe walked in. He stopped short when he saw us sitting close together on _his_ couch in _his_ living room, staring into each other's eyes. His smile slid away and was quickly replaced with his cop face. A spear of guilt hit me. Joe thought he'd interrupted an emotional moment, which was true, but it wasn't the kind of emotions he was thinking.

The tension in the room was thick, more so than usual when the two of them shared the same space. Ranger got to his feet, prepared for a face off, but Joe simply gave him a curt nod. "Manoso."

Ranger returned the greeting with the same bluntness. "Morelli."

The room was swirling with testosterone. I got up and went to Joe, placing my hand on his chest. His arm came around my waist, taking possession and then he kissed me on the lips. I couldn't blame him for his cave man attitude. He'd come home to find another man in what seemed to be an intimate moment with his girlfriend.

Until I woke up in the hospital, I could count on one hand how many times I'd had to deal with both men in the same room. They might not be friends, but they'd found a way to work together, putting their personal feelings aside for my benefit. It helped that Ranger never sticks around once he hands me off to Joe, which is why I wasn't surprised when he put on his coat, gathered Ella's bag, and began walking toward us. "Call me if you need anything," he said, pinning me with his eyes, and then he was gone.

As soon as the door closed behind Ranger, I expected Joe to launch into an argument about how he didn't want Ranger in his house or around me anymore. Instead, he led me over the couch, and pulled me down onto his lap. I rested my head on his shoulder and we sat that way for a while—neither of us talking. There had been something brewing under the surface between Ranger and Joe since I woke up in the hospital. I felt like something had transpired between them that I was unaware of.

"What were you two talking about when I came in?" Joe finally asked.

"Ranger was telling me about Durant's apartment." I waited to see if he was going to fill me in on what _he'd_ found out today. When he didn't say anything, I tried a different approach. "He doesn't think the feds are going to arrest me."

"They won't," he said with certainty.

It was a relief to hear that Joe agreed with Ranger, but there was still a part of me that was unsettled. "How can you be sure?"

"If they tried to prosecute you, the media would have a field day. Besides, I overheard Governor Allen telling Agent Shaw he wanted to meet with you so he could personally thank you for bringing down the man who killed his niece and her unborn child."

"What?" I leaned back to see his face. "I don't want to talk to anyone else."

"I don't think the Governor wants details, he just wants to thank you, but I'll do what I can to keep everyone else away."

We sat holding each other for so long I was about to fall asleep. "Your Mom expects us to come to dinner tonight," he said softly.

I hadn't seen my family since I cut my hair last night. I'm sure my mother was going to have something to say about my new look. Hell, another therapy session sounded better than the interrogation I was bound to get.

Joe must have felt my resistance. "We don't have to stay long," he said. "And I'll run interference between you and your mother."

I burrowed deeper into him. I'd missed my family while I was in the cellar; I just hoped it wasn't a circus like usual.

* * *

The next morning when I came downstairs, Joe was in the kitchen pouring coffee. He handed me a mug and put his arms around me from behind, nuzzling my neck. "Last night's dinner with your parents wasn't that bad, was it?" I leaned my head back against his chest, loving the feel of being in his arms.

"No, you were right. It was actually nice and calm for a change." My mom had pulled out all the stops. She and Grandma had spent the entire day cooking my favorites. It was their way of showing me, without words, how much they loved me. They'd made pork stuffed cabbage and cannoli with chocolate syrup dripping over them, but the best part was the stuffed peppers that Grandma only makes for special occasions. My mom doesn't even know the recipe. It's only passed down to the female head of the family on my Hungarian side. I assume Mom will get the coveted recipe in Grandma's will.

The entire evening, everyone walked on eggshells around me, but no one commented on my newly shorn hair which made me wonder if Joe had warned them in advance. Instead of the usually intrusive judgments about the way I choose to live my life, I endured worried stares. They mostly came from my mother and grandmother, but in between shoveling bites into his mouth, my dad also cast furtive glances in my direction. The only one absent was Albert. He hadn't been able to make it because he finally caught a lucrative case, but Grandma, Mom, and Valerie kept up the rambling conversation about the neighbors and remarked on who had died recently. While Mary Alice and Angie practically bit their tongues in half to keep from blurting out questions for me. No doubt they were being threatened with dire punishment if they opened their mouths. Bert and Lisa were asleep in the playpen in the living room and Joe only commented when asked a direct question or to field a question asked of me. For the most part, everyone seemed content to let me eat in peace.

I'd started with my most favorites, working my way through the dishes on the table, but I'd quickly gotten full and hadn't been able to sample them all. When dinner was over, Mom handed Joe a bag filled with more leftovers than we'd be able to eat in a week. Then I was hugged by everyone including my dad who has always been the least demonstrative with his affections. But it was when my nieces hugged me that I nearly broke down and cried. In the past I'd have quickly returned their hugs and then rushed off to do something more important. My time in the cellar had taught me that nothing was more important than family. This time, I squeezed them tight and didn't want to let go. When my eyes started to sting, I knew I had to get out of there before I started bawling.

"I went to the bakery this morning and got a dozen Boston Crème's," Joe said, pulling me out of my thoughts. He gave me one last kiss on the neck and let me go.

"Thanks," I said as I emptied the last of the sugar into my coffee and threw the container in the trash. There was a folded newspaper lying on top. "Is that today's paper?"

"Huh?" Joe busied himself with the coffee maker as if he didn't hear me. He pulled out the tray that held the wet grounds and dumped them right on top of the newspaper I'd been asking about. "Get yourself a donut," he said, "The garbage truck should be by soon. I'm going to take this out to the alley." Frowning, I sat down at the table and grabbed a donut while Joe took the garbage out. When he came back inside, he washed up at the sink, and then Bob started barking. A second later someone knocked on the front door. I started to get up. "You eat and I'll get the door." He kissed the top of my head before stealing a donut. I turned sideways in my chair and leaned back a little to see who was here.

"Burrr, it's cold out there," Lula said as she stepped in and shook the snow off her shiny black stiletto boots. They came up to mid-thigh, but since her skirt was so short, there was a lot of skin still left uncovered. "You put those eyeballs back in your head," she told Joe who was staring wide eyed at her, but not for the reasons she assumed. He gave a slight shake of his head in disbelief as he closed the door behind her. Lula hung her faux leopard fur coat on the hook by the entry and sniffed the air, smelling the scent of fresh pastries. I quickly straightened in my chair, pushing the box of donuts across the table as she trotted into the kitchen. "Oh," she said with more than a little disappointment. "You didn't get the kind with the sprinkles. I guess I'll have to make do with these." She grabbed a Boston crème and took a big bite. With her mouth full, she looked down at me and said, "I like what you did with your hair. It doesn't look near as crazy as I thought it would."

I bit back a smile. There were some things I didn't like about Lula, like the way she always left me at the police station and how she won't let me get in her Firebird if I'm wet or draped in garbage, but I can always count on her to be honest with me. Everyone else just gives me speculative looks as if I'm one step away from slitting my wrists. "Thanks," I said as I patted my hair, "I did it myself." I got up and went into the living room.

"That's not what I heard." She clicked her heels across the hardwood floor, following me with a donut in each hand. "I heard Hector, the scary Rangeman that even Tank's a little afraid of, dragged that poor hairdresser out of his house at knife point and made him come fix your hair." She plopped her purse and butt down on the couch beside me, blowing out a puff of air. "After everything you been through and you didn't even make the front page of the Trenton Times." She stuck one donut in her mouth to free up her hand to search in her oversized purse.

I turned to find Joe, standing in the doorway watching Lula like he could wring her neck. Now I know why he threw the coffee grounds on top of the newspaper and why he was in such a rush to get the garbage out of the house. I narrowed my eyes to let him know he was busted.

After rifling through the contents of her purse, she finally whipped the newspaper out and said, "Do you see this? That political scandal took up the whole front page," as if she was offended on my behalf, she continued, "but don't worry, you're on page two."

Since I'd been missing for weeks, I was behind on the latest news and not sure what scandal she was talking about. I reached for the paper. "Let me see that."

Joe rushed up behind me and tried to grab it before Lula could hand it over. He was quick but not quick enough. I got the paper first and unfolded it. "You don't want to see that," he said, "trust me."

He was probably right, but I couldn't ignore what was being said about me. I turned to the second page. The words 'Curio Killer' was written in big font across the top. For a second, I stopped breathing. The press had given Durant a catchy name. Why would they do that? He deserves to be forgotten, not memorialized. I'm pretty sure I had steam coming out of my ears.

"Hunter Durant, America's _Curio Killer_," I read out loud, my voice sounding hoarse, "is responsible for the ghastly murders of eight women. He was found dead in an underground bunker in the Pine Barrens. He was reportedly bludgeoned to death by his latest victim, Trenton's own Bombshell Bounty Hunter. A source close to the investigation has said the dead women were displayed as trophies in glass cases."

I was stunned into silence as I tried to breathe.

"They didn't mention you by name," Joe said, trying to put a positive spin on the article.

"Yeah, that was rude," Lula added and pulled out her phone, checking her favorite websites. "They didn't mention your name online either."

Lula's words blended into the background as I finished reading the article. I'd never thought about how intrusive the news is. Everyone wants to know the dirty details and it's none of their business. I closed the paper and tossed it onto the coffee table. It wasn't fit to line Rex's cage.

Lula turned sideways on the couch. "You know what you need? You need a big glass of wine. That always makes me feel better." She nodded her head, satisfied with her diagnosis.

"It's nine in the morning," I pointed out.

"That's the best time to go. They got a good boxed wine down at the Foodmart on Cherry Street. We should head over… " She stopped abruptly when Joe cleared his throat.

I looked at him, accessing. "What are you not telling me?"

He sighed and shot Lula a look that would have sent most people running for the door. But Lula wasn't most people. She sat back and waited for Joe's explanation. The only thing missing was a tub of popcorn in her lap.

"Reporters have been trying to get close to the house since early this morning," he confessed. "Ranger's men are keeping them off the property… for now."

"They're doing a good job," Lula added as she smoothed her hand down her chest. "But luckily some of those reporters have long range lenses on their cameras and they were able to capture me on film. This outfit is going to get me immortalized." She touched her head, running her ridiculously long fingernails over her slicked down hair. "Did you notice the rhinestones accentuating my finger waves? I'm channeling my girl, Lizzo. Now, that bitch got style."

I guess I knew the media would latch onto this story. There's no way the discovery of eight dead women would fly under the radar, but I hadn't expected them to be camped out on the lawn waiting to ambush me if I left the house. Suddenly, I felt claustrophobic. I was aware of a tingling in my chest and recognized the beginnings of a panic attack. An unexpected hand on my shoulder had me gasping. "It's just me," Joe assured, "you're okay."

I used the breathing technique Ranger taught me and slowly the panic began to dissipate. Lula pushed a donut into my hand and Joe sat a glass of water on the coffee table. Several minutes and one donut later, I was better. Joe looked at his phone, checking the time. I felt bad for making him late for work. "Go," I said, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Hector will be here at eleven. We're going to watch his show and eat some of the leftovers from my mom."

"Yeah, and I'll stay till Hector gets here," Lula said. "I won't let no reporters get near my white girl."

Joe stared at Lula for a solid minute, debating her trustworthiness and then he must have decided it was okay. He came over and sat down on the other side of me, kissing my forehead. "Ranger's men are at the front and back of the property. If you have any trouble call me or Rangeman."

After Joe left, Lula pulled a magazine out of her purse and started flipping through it, giving her commentary on the lives of rappers and reality TV celebrities. Once she'd exhausted all her magazines, she told me about her manicurist's dating troubles and Connie's new boyfriend. At some point, I fell asleep curled up at one end of the couch. I woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door and Bob barking.

"Good Morning, Angelita," Hector said after Lula let him inside.

"What time is it?" I rubbed my eyes and stretched.

"It's almost eleven. I better go see if Connie needs help at the office." Lula pulled her coat on, preparing to leave.

"Thanks for coming by."

"Uh huh," she said, reapplying her lip stick and checking her makeup. "I'm only a call away, but don't call tonight cause I got a date with Tankie." She opened the door and posed as if she was walking the red carpet at a movie premiere. I saw flashes of light and then the door closed.

Hector and I fixed a plate from the leftovers my mom sent home last night and settled on the couch to watch our new show/telenovela. When it was over, he turned to me with a serious expression on his face. "I do not know what you want to do about your living arrangements. But if you stay in your apartment, I would like to install new security measures before you return."

I wanted to be brave and go home, but I didn't think I was ready to be by myself. It was too soon.

Seeing the conflicted expression on my face, he suggested, "Or we could get a two-bedroom apartment together in a safe area."

"You would leave your mama's house for me?" He nodded, but I couldn't let him do that. He'd worked hard to make up for the things he'd done in his youth and I knew how important it was for him to take care of his mama. She needed him. "I've been thinking of just moving in here with Joe," I said.

His hopeful smile fell away, replaced with a hardened look that made me wonder what I'd done wrong. "You should have a safe place to go," he insisted. "If you do not want to move in together at least let me make your apartment safe for you."

"Okay. If it means that much to you." His smile returned, brighter than before. "Hold on a minute." I held my hand up to illustrate my point. "I have a couple stipulations." He nodded for me to go on. "I don't want Rangeman to monitor my movements. I can't feel like a prisoner."

"I make everything safe for you. You will see."

* * *

Over the weekend, I was only allowed to lounge on the couch, taking it easy as friends and family dropped by to visit. Joe took it upon himself to cater to my every need. After the tense standoff between him and Ranger the other day, I thought he would insist that Ranger's visits be limited, but he hadn't. Instead, he became more affectionate toward me whenever Ranger was around.

Rangeman was still keeping the stragglers away from Joe's property, but for the most part the press had moved on to a bigger story. Sometime Friday night, Linda Bratcher, US Senator Denton Bratcher's wife, was found drowned in her bathtub. At first, they thought it was an apparent suicide, but the autopsy report revealed she'd been murdered. Immediately, the media's attention shifted from Durant's crimes to uncovering every detail of her salacious death. It had all the requirements for prolonged public interest. It didn't look good for the Senator. He was the prime suspect and the media was out for blood.

On Monday, Joe drove me to my follow up appointment with Dr. Powell where I was given a clean bill of health and told that I didn't need my bandages anymore. I was free to go home to my apartment whenever I liked. The only thing she was concerned about was my ongoing panic attacks. She gave me a stern warning to continue my medication and to make an appointment with a different therapist. I took the card she offered, but I had no intention of making an appointment.

Agent's Shaw and Kinkade had called several times, requesting a follow up interview, but Joe managed to put them off each time. I'd said everything I was going to say already and didn't see the need to continually rehash the events. But after a call from Cyrus, gently advising me it would be in my best interest to be more cooperative, I relented and agreed to sit down with the agents on Wednesday for a quick chat, as they put it. Of course, Cyrus, Ranger, and Joe were also in attendance.

I was in my usual seat on the couch with Joe sitting on my right and Cyrus on my left. Agent's Shaw and Kinkade sat across from us in Aunt Rose's upholstered chairs. Ranger pulled a chair from the kitchen into the living room and sat near the end of the couch where Cyrus was.

Agent Kinkade was the first to speak. "How are you feeling, Stephanie?"

I gave her a perfunctory smile. "I'll be a lot better when this is all over."

"I think we all will." She returned my smile. "This won't take long. We have a few things we'd like to go over again and a couple questions we need to ask before we can close the case."

I was all for closing this chapter and if answering a few more questions helped then I was all for it. I motioned for her to go ahead.

"First, we want you to know that the lab has officially confirmed the identities of the women and we've been able to match the DNA from the seminal fluid on the cases to Durant," Agent Kinkade said. "We also found semen belonging to him on the fabric of eight of the women's dresses and on the genitals of Donna Morgan, Kelly Butler, and Melissa Barnes, his three most recent victim's, besides you of course. The other victim's bodies had deteriorated to the point no foreign DNA could be detected. As a result, the medical examiner cannot conclude with any certainty that Durant had raped all of his victims."

I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap. I couldn't imagine what their last moments on earth had been like. The pain and degradation they had to have experienced made my throat tighten, but to hear confirmation that he'd violated them in the most unforgivable way filled me with so much hatred I'd have killed him again if he wasn't already dead.

"I know this is hard for you to talk about, Stephanie." Agent Kinkade leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, her voice turning even softer as she continued—unaware that my insides were violently churning. "We also found traces of semen on the mattress and blanket. Some of the samples were fresh." She paused, waiting for me to understand her meaning.

Suddenly, it dawned on me what she was getting at. She was waiting for me to admit that he'd raped me. I couldn't do that. I still didn't believe he had. It didn't matter what the law stated, Cyrus was wrong.

She licked her lips and slowly swallowed. "Your examination was inconclusive for rape. Your doctors found no semen on or inside you, but we need an explanation as to how the fresh samples of semen got on the mattress and blanket you were using?"

Joe clasped my hands and put his arm around me. "She already told you he didn't touch her like that. Can't you see you're upsetting her."

I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment. They were talking about my personal business as if they had a right to know all about it. It infuriated me. There was no way I was going to tell them that he wiped his filth on me. I took a breath and gathered my anger into something productive. "I already explained how he used his… stuff to paint on the cases." I looked down at mine and Joe's hands clasped together and slid my hand away. I didn't want to be touched right now. "Sometimes he took the blanket away from me when he was angry. It must have gotten on it then." It was a weak argument but that's all I had.

"Is it possible," she paused to draw in a soft breath, "that in one of your unconscious moments, he did more than you can recall?"

"No." I shook my head adamantly, but she looked like she didn't believe me.

"Can you think of anything else we should know?" Agent Shaw asked his first question of the day.

Sure… there was plenty of stuff I could tell them. But I didn't. Instead, I gave them an answer they could write in their report and hopefully it would be enough for them to leave me alone. "I tried everything to get away from him. I even tried to convince him to let me get him help. I just wanted to go home."

"The coroner has placed Hunter Durant's time of death at three days after you escaped from the cellar. Given that you were sedated during that time and that you were clearly defending yourself, we are comfortable ruling his death as self-defense," Agent Shaw explained. "I know this has been hard, Stephanie. You've gone through a horrific experience and I apologize if our investigation has caused you further suffering." He began putting his notes in his briefcase.

I looked at Cyrus, hope making my chest feel both light and heavy at the same time. "Is it over?" He nodded his head and gave me a gentle smile.

"On behalf of the Federal government." Agent Kinkade let the satisfaction show on her face. "We'd like to thank you for helping us give closure to the other eight victims. Without the information you gave us, we would still be muddling through this case with more questions than answers."

"Thank you," I stammered.

Joe walked Cyrus and the agents to their cars, leaving Ranger and I alone in the living room. He sat down beside me, pulling me into his arms. "Thank you for hiring Cyrus. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

"Nothing to thank me for, Babe. No price, remember?"

* * *

I was standing beside the bed later that night when Joe came out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. Without forethought, my eyes traveled up and down his chest, appreciating his beautiful body. His mouth tipped up in a smile as he held his arm out for me to come closer. I hesitated, not wanting to confuse either one of us. I wasn't ready to tear up the sheets with him, but I trusted him not to hurt me. I stepped into his arms, feeling his damp chest through my night shirt. I felt him swell against my lower stomach and pushed back until I was standing on my own again.

"Ignore it, Cupcake. It's just an involuntary reaction whenever I'm around you. I know you're not ready."

Joe was saying and doing all the right things. His motives were pure. He wasn't pressuring me to do anything I wasn't ready to do. He wanted me to know that I was safe with him. It occurred to me that I could erase Durant's touch and replace it with Joe's. I wanted him to help me feel clean. I tentatively reached out to touch his chest, running my hand over his damp skin, feeling the soft hair dotting his pecks.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Cupcake." He kept his eyes focused on mine as he gently caressed my jaw.

My knees were beginning to shake. I was reminded of how I felt in the bakery all those years ago when he touched me for the first time. He wasn't holding me or keeping me from leaving. He was simply watching me and waiting for me to do what I wanted. I began dragging my fingertips down his chest like I'd done hundreds of times before but when I got midway, I froze and couldn't go any further. I let my hand drop to my side and stepped back.

"It's okay," he said as he lifted the blanket and motioned for me to get in. I slid under the covers and watched as he got a pair of boxers from his drawer. He turned away from me and dropped his towel. My heart was racing as I waited to see what he was going to do. He slipped the boxers on and came around to his side of the bed. He slid in behind me and pulled me against his chest, spooning. "I know you're scared, but I'm not going to do anything except hold you," he said as he kissed the back of my neck. "I was afraid I'd lost you. Now that I have you back, I'm never letting you go."

I knew how to deal with cocky Joe. Hell, I could even deal with sexy, seducing, Joe. But vulnerable Joe? I was out of my depth. When my silent tears landed on his forearm, he squeezed me tighter. "I'm here," he said. "When you're ready to talk, I'll listen."

Talking wasn't something we excelled at, but under the cover of darkness, I gave it a shot. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the women," I confessed. "It feels wrong that I made it out of the cellar, and they didn't?"

"That's survivor's guilt," he said. "You can't feel bad about being alive, Cupcake."


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

**Leaving So Soon?**

It was Thursday morning, two weeks since I'd escaped from the cellar, and life was returning to normal. Joe was keeping his regular work schedule, which meant he was up before dawn, leaving me alone in bed. I usually slept for a while longer, barely making it out of the shower before Ranger or Hector arrived with breakfast. This morning, I found myself sitting on the couch, eating breakfast with Ranger when a knock sounded at the door. He raised one eyebrow, expectantly.

"It's Lula and Connie," I explained. "They're here to drag me to the mall."

His eyes took on a wary edge. "Is that a good idea?"

I wasn't sure if it was a good idea or not, but I couldn't stay holed up in Joe's house for the rest of my life. I was starting to feel claustrophobic. "I'd like to get out of here for a while," I shrugged. "Try to be normal, you know?"

"I have a client meeting in an hour," he said as he checked his watch. "I wish you'd told me about this earlier. If you wait until this afternoon, I can take you." Ranger wasn't a man to beg, but from the look in his eyes right now, he was one step away from doing just that.

"That's sweet of you to offer, but unnecessary. I'll be fine."

"At least let Bone's drive you. He can be close by in case you need him."

That was Ranger speak for, I'm sending my company medic to babysit your crazy ass in case you have another panic attack. When I rolled my eyes, he knew I'd conceded.

"Thank you," he said, his relief visible.

He thought I was humoring him, but in truth, I was grateful to have a Merryman following me. I knew better than anyone that monsters hid inside ordinary people. You weren't even safe to stop for ice cream. But I wasn't going to let my fear rule me. I had to get out and actively live my life again. If I didn't, Durant would win.

He sent a quick text and went to the door to let Lula and Connie inside. The look of shock on their faces at having Ranger opening Joe's door had me chuckling to myself. "Ladies." He greeted them and walked over to kiss me on the forehead. "Wait for Bone's," he said, giving me a pointed look. "He'll be here in five."

After he left, I thought I would be bombarded with questions, but they were unusually quiet. Exactly five minutes later, Bone's knocked on the door and we were off. We'd arranged to meet Mary Lou at Dunkin' Donuts in the food court and of course decided to get a bite to eat before beginning our trek around the mall. I got a vanilla chai latte and a bacon egg and cheese croissant. We ate and while they chatted about various goings on in their lives I simply listened and ate my food.

Usually, food cheered me up, but as soon as I stepped off Joe's porch this morning, an uneasy feeling came over me and it was only getting worse the longer I was gone. I won't pretend that I've always felt safe while going about my business, but this was a different feeling. It was unfamiliar and I couldn't wait to get back to Joe's.

After an hour of shopping, I'd only purchased one pair of jeans and my feet were starting to drag. I finally had to admit I was just going through the motions. My heart wasn't in it. Running around the mall, shopping for bargains seemed trivial after what I'd been through. I was ready to call it a day.

As we passed by the Macy's store front, I came to an abrupt halt. Behind the glass were several mannequins outfitted in formal dresses. My heart started racing and I broke out in a sweat. Jenny, Ashley, Melissa, and the others had taken the place of the mannequins. As if they were alive, their hard, plastic bodies reached for me. I tried to run but my feet were planted to the ground.

I tried to remember what Dr. Mereck said about grounding myself to the here and now, but it was all happening too fast. I panicked and started chanting to myself. "This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real." But it _was_ real. It was so real I could even smell them. Nausea engulfed me and I fell to my knees. I put my hand over my nose and mouth to mask the scent of decay. As soon as I moved, the chains on my wrist rattled. I looked down at my hands wondering where they'd come from.

My chest was hurting so bad I thought I was going to die. From far away, I could hear Mary Lou, Connie, Lula, and Bones frantically calling to me. "Help!" I tried hard to scream but it came out as a feeble wail. The faces behind the glass began to blur as dizziness set in. There was a whooshing sound in my ears, booming louder and louder, until I couldn't hear a thing, and everything turned black.

"Stephanie!" A strong masculine voice called to me. My head felt muddled and I wasn't sure where I was. "Babe."

"Ranger," I murmured and rolled my head to the side, trying to determine where his voice was coming from. I was lying down on something soft, but that's all I could tell about where I was.

Gentle fingers touched my face. They were loving and familiar. "It's me, Babe."

I turned into his comforting embrace, wanting to feel his warmth wrapped around me. If Ranger was here, then I was safe. I opened my eyes and saw his beautiful face. I attempted a smile, but it was weak. On the other side of me, someone was holding my wrist. "Wha—?" I moaned as I turned my head to see who had a hold of me. Bones was looking at his watch and pressing his thumb and two fingers against my wrist. "Her pulse is low," he said as he held my eyelids wide, shining a small light into each one, blinding me, "and her pupils are dilated."

I moaned and flinched away, noticing Mary Lou, Connie, Lula, and even Tank. "What happened?" I asked as I tried to figure out why everyone was standing over me. The last thing I remembered was seeing the harmless mannequins in the store window. Then they changed into the women from the cellar.

"Should we take her to the hospital?" Mary Lou asked.

"She's not in any immediate danger," Bones said, "but would you mind getting her a sprite or a Gatorade from the machine?" Mare quickly walked away, and Bones handed me a Snickers bar. "Here, eat this," he said and then asked me, "did you take your medication this morning?"

At first, I didn't know what he was talking about, but then I remembered the medication Dr. Mereck put me on last week. Did I take it this morning? "Yes," I told him. "I took it when I got up."

"When was that?"

"8:00 a.m."

Bones checked his watch again. "That was almost four hours ago. It's safe for her to take another dose of valium. Did you bring your medication with you?" he asked me.

"It's in my purse." As I turned to the side looking for my purse, I noticed a large trifold mirror behind Ranger, and then I looked down to see that I was lying on a gold velvet chaise. I was in the women's dressing room at Macy's.

"Here's her medication," Ranger said, holding out both bottles for Bones to take.

While I ate the candy bar, he read the labels, opening the one he wanted. "Take this," he said just as Mary Lou came back with a Sprite.

I felt drained but I wanted to get up and go home. I started to rise, but Ranger put his hand on my shoulder, keeping me from sitting up. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked.

If I told them what happened they'd think I was going crazy. Maybe Barry was right. What Durant did to me had messed me up so badly I was never going to be normal again.

Ranger turned to Mary Lou. "What was she doing right before she collapsed?"

Mary Lou hesitated, her eyes widening in fear at having to talk directly to Ranger. "We were getting ready to walk into Macy's. She stopped to stare at the window display, and then she just crumbled to the ground."

"I saw everything," Lula said, dramatically. "Stephanie was in a trance. She was having one of them flashbacks."

_Thanks, Lula. Way to make me sound crazy._

"Soldiers with PTSD experience flashbacks," Tank said, "and they probably haven't been through half of what Stephanie has."

"She's going to be okay, isn't she?" Mare's voice shook with worry.

"I'm fine." I assured everyone as I placed my feet on the floor, trying to appear more stable than I was, especially since my legs felt like jelly. As I got to my feet, Ranger slipped a strong arm around my waist to keep me from falling. "I just want to go home."

For the first time, it felt right to call Joe's house my home, but I didn't miss the cloud of pain that crossed Ranger's face before it went blank.

* * *

**Joe POV**

I was just getting out of my SUV when Ranger pulled his Cayenne into my driveway, parking behind me. I left work as soon as Ranger called me to tell me she'd passed out at the mall. I knew it was a bad idea for her to leave the house, but once she gets an idea in her head there's no changing it.

I ran around to the passenger side of his car and gently helped her out. She was pale and moving slowly. I was afraid she was going to fall over if I didn't hold onto her. As soon as she was standing on her own, I ran my hands up and down her arms. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," she tried to convince me, but I needed confirmation. I turned to Ranger for an explanation.

"She had a panic attack."

"Another one?" I asked her. "We should get you to the hospital." I started leading her in the direction of my SUV ready to get her checked out by a doctor.

"I don't need to go to the hospital, Joe." She pulled away from me and headed to the house. "I just want to lie down."

I helped her inside and got her settled on the couch with a blanket. She looked exhausted. She closed her eyes and was asleep in seconds. I turned around to find Ranger standing in the doorway. From the look on my face, he must have known that I wanted him out of my house. He stepped out onto the porch and I followed, closing the door behind me to keep our voices from waking her. "Tell me what happened."

"Everything was going well until she saw the window display at Macy's."

"Why would a department store display upset her?"

"I believe it was the mannequins that caused the panic attack. I think it reminded her of the women in glass cases. She became agitated and then passed out."

"What did your medic say? Does he think she needs to go to the hospital?"

"No. He gave her another dose of valium when she woke up and now she seems to be back to normal."

"I want you to leave her alone." I crossed my arms over my chest daring him to say something. "She's living with me now and having you hanging around is confusing her. I'll take care of her from now on."

According to the look he was giving me, he didn't like what I had to say. Too bad. This was the end of the line for his involvement in our lives. I'd had all I was going to take from him.

"Stephanie and I are friends. I'll be around as long as she wants me to be," Ranger said, his voice as uncompromising as steel. He didn't immediately move off the porch. It would have seemed as if he was retreating and his type would never retreat. It was a macho move; one I was familiar with. Now that I'd made myself clear to him, it worried me that he'd dig his heels in and cause trouble between Stephanie and me. I hadn't felt threatened or jealous of another man in… ever. I was confident that she loved me, but there was a little voice whispering in my ear warning me that I could lose her to him if I wasn't careful. Finally, our stare off ended and Ranger got in his car and drove away. I couldn't go inside just yet. I needed to cool off. His cocky attitude had gotten under my skin. I wasn't ready to admit I was jealous, but he threatened mine and Stephanie's future and I was done letting him stick his nose where it didn't belong.

I needed to head inside before my nuts froze. I locked up behind me and took a moment to watch her as she stretched out on my couch. "Come here," she said, holding her arm out to me. I went to her and laid down beside her with her head resting on my chest. This was exactly how she said she wanted to remember us when she was in the cellar. My heart swelled. I stroked her back, hoping that she knew I was here for her… always. We both dozed off, and I woke when my phone buzzed. I knew who it was before I looked at the screen. Terry had been begging me to get away this weekend. I'd already told her no, but she was insisting. I slowly slid out from under Steph, trying not to fully wake her. She stirred and asked me in a sleepy voice, "Where are you going?"

"Works calling," I whispered. "I'm going to let Bob out and see what's going on." I kissed her on the forehead. "Go back to sleep."

After I shut the door behind me, I returned the call. "Joey, I've cleared my schedule for the weekend. I want to see you."

"I already told you I couldn't make it this weekend," I told her, my tone taking a hard edge.

"But it's been weeks," she whined. "I really need to see you." She was right. The last time I saw her was a week before Stephanie escaped from the cellar. I'd put off going to see her because I was planning to end things between us, and she wasn't going to take it well. She'd feel rejected and when Terry is hurt, she lashes out. The thought of her doing something to harm Stephanie worried me.

After finding Stephanie half dead and hearing about the hell she'd lived through, I felt more guilt than ever about seeing Terry. Stephanie was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but first I had to get this over with. "Okay. I'll make some time this weekend."

"I'll get something sexy," she purred, "and meet you at the house."

I hung up and went back inside, Steph was sitting up on the couch. I sat down beside her, holding her hand. "Do you feel any better?"

She nodded.

"How about a big slice of your mother's triple layer chocolate cake?" Other women required diamonds and expensive displays of affection, but in Stephanie's world a big piece of chocolate cake could fix almost anything. I helped her to the kitchen table and served up a large portion of cake for each of us. After stalling for several bites, I decided to just say it. "Cupcake, I know this is bad timing, but I have to go out of town."


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

**Who Says You Can't Go Home Again**

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth, convinced I'd heard him wrong. "What... Why?"

The sides of his mouth dipped down in regret. "I can't go into details, but the case I was working on hit a snag."

I put my fork down, cake all but forgotten and tried not to let him see how much fear was rushing through me. I didn't want to be here alone… or anywhere alone. "I thought your case was wrapped up?"

"I thought so too."

I tried not to think about what I'd do if something happened to him in the line of duty, but the seed had been planted and now I was fixated on that possibility. He never hesitates to remind me of the dangers of my job and now I was going to return the favor. "I worry when you're off on a case."

He took my good hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I won't be in any danger so there's no need for you to worry. Loose ends like these happen all the time. I'll be back before you even miss me."

"That would be impossible because you haven't left yet, and I already miss you." I gave him a thin smile, hoping he couldn't see through my attempt at being brave.

He stood up, pulling me into his arms. "When I get back, there will be no more out of town assignments. I'll be all yours. I promise."

I pulled back so I could see his face. "What do you mean?"

"I've already told my Captain. I'm taking myself out of rotation. They'll have to get the younger guys, the ones without families, to step up."

My first reaction was excitement and then I realized I was being selfish. Joe's job was important to him and if he was doing this for me, he'd eventually resent me. I looked down at my feet. "Don't do it for me, Joe. I'd never make a demand like that."

"I know, Cupcake." He rubbed his hand from my shoulder to my elbow and back again, smiling expectantly. "I've decided to take the Sergeant's exam."

"Really?" I was surprised and maybe a little confused. I hadn't known he was thinking about that. He nodded and hugged me to him. "When do you have to leave?" I whispered against his chest.

"In the morning." He looked down at me. "But I don't like the thought of leaving you here alone while I'm gone. Will you stay with your parents until I get back?"

I decided to be strong and ignore the butterflies of fear fluttering in my stomach. "I'll be fine staying here. Bob will keep me company." At the mention of his name, Bob trotted over, wiping his wet nose on my thigh.

Joe reached down to scratch Bob's head. "He'll need to be walked. What if he takes off while on the leash and pulls you down? You should be taking it easy, not taking care of a dog. I'll just take him to Mooch's like I usually do. He owes me a favor."

I felt safe here and I didn't want to leave. "Oh," I said, my voice falling, unable to hide my disappointment. "I guess I should go home, then. I need to check out the security upgrades Hector installed in my apartment, anyway."

He shook his head, not ready to give up so easily. "You still need someone with you. Will you please stay at your parents… for me?"

"I'm sure I can get Hector to stay with me. I'll be fine. You just concentrate on staying safe and coming home to me."

He sighed but didn't argue further. He tipped my chin, so our eyes met. "While I'm gone, think about my proposal. Nothing would make me happier than coming back and hearing you say you'll be my wife."

I wanted to make him as happy as he makes me. I smiled big and started to blurt out my answer. He put his finger over my lips, shushing me. "No pressure, Cupcake. Hold that thought and tell me when I get back."

* * *

Finally, two and a half weeks after getting out of the cellar, I was back home. Joe turned off the ignition while I stared at the familiar three-story brick building, my chest fluttering uncomfortably. I glanced around, noticing my Jeep was still parked beside the dumpster where I'd left it. Seeing it sparked a memory. I had the sensation of being grabbed from behind and then a stinging pain in my neck. I shivered as I ran my hand over the back of my neck where I'd been drugged. In dire need of air, I reached for the door handle, but hesitated before throwing the door open. Maybe coming home wasn't the best idea after all.

"You don't have to stay here if you're not ready," Joe said. "Say the word and I'll take you back to my house or to your parents."

I wanted to run back to his house, crawl into his bed and let him hold me like he had last night. I was so desperate I was ready to beg for those things, but I couldn't make him feel guilty for having to do his job and I wasn't going to live my life hiding from what Durant had done to me. I had to conquer this fear and I had to do it now. "Let's do this," I said with forced bravado and stepped out of the SUV.

As soon as we got off the elevator and turned the corner, I could see that my apartment door was ajar. From the hallway, I heard Ranger and Hector talking quietly about the new security features they'd installed. A feeling of shame came over me. They were willing to take time out of their busy schedules, not mention the cost of all the upgrades, to make my apartment safe for me and until now, I'd been too stupid to take advantage of their help. Why? Was my independence worth more than my life? No, it wasn't. It was time I started taking my safety seriously and if that meant asking for help, then that's what I'd do. Never again would I let myself be vulnerable to a man like Durant.

All talking ceased as we stepped inside. "Babe." Ranger stepped forward, hugging me to him and then Hector did the same.

I glanced around my apartment. I'd expected it to be in shambles since the police had probably tossed it while looking for clues as to who had abducted me, but it was immaculate. "Did Ella do all this?" Ranger's small smile was my only answer.

I turned to find Joe. He was sticking close behind me, lending support and listening, but not really being an active part of the welcome home.

Hector pointed to my new front door. It was painted the same dark brown as my other one had been, but along with the existing floor bolt there was now a locking bar across the center. "This is made of reinforced steel," he said. "It would take two people and a battering ram to get through this door."

"That will give you plenty of time to call for help and draw your weapon," Ranger added as he handed me a key fob similar to the one he uses for his apartment. He gave me a hundred-watt smile, and added, "This lock will even keep me out."

I appreciated all their hard work to make me feel secure, but I was a little sad Ranger wouldn't be able to break in. He'd been doing it for so long, it was expected. It made me wonder what other changes I'd have to live with thanks to Durant.

Hector directed my attention to a five-inch video screen on the wall beside the door. "This monitor will let you see who is at your door before you open it. You can also access it remotely from your cell phone." He pointed to a button below the screen. "If someone is here to harm you, press this and an alarm will sound at Rangeman." He saw the question in my eyes. "Do not worry. It is just as you asked. No one will monitor your private movements. Rangeman will only be contacted when you press these buttons."

I cast a look at Ranger to see his reaction, but any worries that I'd hurt his feelings seemed to be unfounded. He was business as usual. He pointed at the red light on the remote in my hand and at the one on the video screen. "If this light is blinking, you'll know the perimeter has been compromised. Don't enter. Call Rangeman and someone will be dispatched right away."

I smiled, trying to appear grateful, but a small seed of discomfort had started to grow.

Ranger put his hand on my back, leading me to the living room widows that were now covered with bars on the inside. "The windows in here and the one's in your bedroom have been replaced with bullet proof glass," he explained. "And the bars will prevent an intruder from prying the windows open and getting inside."

I became fixated on the bars. The walls of my apartment began closing in on me. I started counting my breaths, hoping I wasn't about to give into panic.

As if he sensed my discomfort, he quickly continued. "You don't have to worry. In case of fire or if you need to exit quickly, just press this lever and it will easily open." As he explained, he pressed the lever and the bars swung open like a cabinet door. He closed it again and waited to see if I had any questions.

I latched onto the bars, staring out the window, hiding the tears that were filling my eyes. The cellar had been my prison for weeks, and now my home was going to be a prison, too.

* * *

**Joe's POV**

I leaned against the living room wall, watching Stephanie's two besotted protectors explain the new security measures to her. She was listening, but she didn't look happy. She prided herself on appearing independent and being allowed to make her own choices without interference. I didn't understand where that need came from, but every time I've tried to tell her what to do, or give her an ultimatum, she's shut me down fast. That's why I was staying out of this. Let them find out for themselves because there was no way she'd live under these conditions for long.

As they revealed each new feature, I couldn't help adding up the cost. It was too steep for my blood, but then Ranger never spares any expense when it comes to Stephanie. It left me at a disadvantage because I couldn't compete with his wealth. That was just one of the many reasons I wanted him out of her life. And if I had to listen to him call her Babe, one more time, I was going to put my fist through his face.

I should have insisted she stay at my house, but I didn't want her to be alone and I damn sure didn't want Ranger or his men in my home while I was gone. That was asking too much. It would have been easier on everyone if she'd just agreed to stay with her parents because as soon as I got back, I was moving her in with me permanently. All the money Ranger spent on this stuff was going to be wasted. That gave me some enjoyment.

I checked my watch. I needed to get on the road. My plan was to spend a nice evening with Terry, easing her into the breakup and then packing my stuff. I had to handle this just right or there would be consequences. She might even go after Steph. Once I'd broken it off with her, I was going to come back here and sweep Stephanie off her feet. Since she'd been married before she probably wouldn't want a big wedding. I know I didn't. Maybe we'd have something small and intimate or take a quick trip to Vegas. That would suit me just fine.

Ranger had just finished demonstrating how to open and close the bars he'd installed on her living room window. She couldn't take her eyes off the black wrought iron. Her skin had paled, and she latched onto the bars as if she couldn't believe this was happening. Before she turned away, I saw her watery eyes. She was on emotional overload right now. I stepped forward, taking the opportunity to have a necessary conversation with Ranger and Hector. I needed to know who was going to be keeping an eye on Stephanie while I was gone. I didn't like Hector, but I liked the idea of Ranger spending the night with Stephanie even less. I wouldn't put it past him to seduce her in her weakened condition.

"Could we talk in the kitchen?" I asked and walked the short route to stand beside her kitchen counter. Ranger and Hector each gave Stephanie an assessing look and reluctantly followed. I started off cordial… grateful even. "I want to thank you for what you've done here. I appreciate it more than you know."

Hector lifted his chin indignantly, and his voice became guttural. "I do for her, not you." I don't know what I ever did to this little fucker, but he needed to back off me before I decided to take a closer look at his criminal history. A man like him had to have more than a few skeletons in his closet. Just a whiff of a crime and I'd have his ass sitting in a jail cell.

At the sound of Hector's angry voice, Stephanie spun around. When she saw Hector standing closely to me, she got a surprised look in her eyes. Ranger even seemed to be confused by Hector's attitude toward me. I'd been trying to be gracious and look what it got me. Choosing to take the high road, I held my hands up as if surrendering. "Whatever man. You have my thanks anyway."

Dismissing Hector, I focused on Ranger. "I'll be reachable by phone. If something happens, I'd appreciate a call." With that, I left them in the kitchen and went to Steph, putting my arm around her. "Let's talk in the bedroom." I led her down the hallway, past the kitchen and into the bedroom. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I pulled her into my arms, but like usual, Stephanie wanted to know what was going on.

"What was that all about?" She sounded worried, but there was also a hint of accusation in her tone.

Was she blaming that conniving criminal's rudeness on me? I went on the defensive, shrugging my shoulders as if I had no clue what Hector's problem was, which I really didn't. "I'm not sure," I said. "All I did was thank him for what they've done for you." She narrowed her eyes, making me wonder if she believed me. She was probably right to question my honesty. I'd become such a liar lately. I wasn't even sure I believed myself. The guilt about my double life was eating me up inside. I pulled her close and buried my face in her neck, kissing her smooth skin. "I don't like leaving you. Promise me you'll be okay?"

She was stiff for a minute and then she melted into me. "I wish you didn't have to go, but the sooner you get your case wrapped up, the sooner you can get back here." She leaned back so she could look at me. "Are you sure you're not mad that I'm staying here?"

"Now that I see the level of security they've installed, I think you'll be safe here. Besides, it won't be long before I'm back for good and then we'll have that long overdue discussion." I smiled down at her. "You know the one I'm talking about."

"That's a conversation that I'm finally ready to have." She smiled, knowingly.

"Hector seemed pretty angry back there. Are you sure he'll stay with you until I get back?"

"I haven't asked him yet, but I'm sure he will."

I was having a hard time letting her go. "Promise me that you'll call me if you need anything… day or night." I kissed her thoroughly, my lips lingering on hers. "I love you, Cupcake." My arms tightened around her instead of letting go. My insides were churning. I had this feeling that if I released her, I'd never hold her again.

She laughed. "You act like you'll never see me again. You **are** coming back, Joe."

The sound of her laughter eased my fears and I stepped back, letting my arms fall to my side. As I walked away from her, I sensed I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

Morelli came out of the bedroom, ignoring Hector as he walked past, but gave me a nod of acknowledgment before leaving the apartment. There was something about him that looked shaken. It made me wonder what had transpired in the bedroom and if Stephanie was alright. As soon as the door shut behind Morelli, Hector grabbed his coat and put it on. Before I could ask him why he was taking off, Stephanie came out of the bedroom. She stopped in her tracks, eyes widening when she caught sight of Hector. "You're leaving?"

The panic in her voice had us both concerned. Hector placed his hands on her shoulders. "I will be back in the morning," he smiled and pulled her in for a quick hug. "Ranger will stay the night."

She resembled a puppy whose owner was leaving and didn't believe they'd ever be back. My heart took the hit even though she hadn't meant to hurt me. For so long, I'd been the one she relied on to keep her safe and now Hector was taking my place. It was my own fault. I'd put us in this position.

After locking up behind Hector, I came back into the kitchen. I wanted to hold her, but I didn't think she'd let me. "Are you hungry?" I asked.

"You don't have to stay. I'll be fine now that I have all the new security." I didn't bother answering. I was staying and we both knew it.

While she'd been at Morelli's, I had Ella stock her fridge and pantry. Stephanie wouldn't have to set foot in a grocery store for a while. "We can eat one of the meals Ella prepared or order in. It's your choice."

Her eyes got misty and she looked down at the floor. "Whatever Ella made is fine," she said, looking so fragile that I was afraid to touch her.

I pretended not to notice as I pulled an aluminum pan out of the fridge and popped it into the oven.

"Did Ella do all this?"

"Did Ella do all of what?"

"My apartment is cleaner than its ever been and I have more food than I could possibly eat."

"Ella wanted to do something for you. It was all her idea."

"I keep saying thank you, but I don't know what else to say." Her sincerity squeezed my heart. I'd have to tell Ella how much her kind gesture meant to Stephanie.

"I don't want your thanks, Babe. I want you to tell me you're going to be okay."

She stepped around me and opened the freezer door to avoid answering me. She gasped and then froze, staring open mouthed at the contents inside. Before I could figure out what the problem was, she slammed the door and jumped back, hitting her side on the counter behind her.

I put my hands on her shoulders, steadying her and watched her reaction as I asked, "What's wrong?"

Her hands were balled into fists at her side and she was shaking her head violently as she tried to get control over her breathing. I put my hand on her back, gently forcing her to lean over to ease her panic. When she was breathing normally again, she straightened and pulled the garbage over to the fridge. She jerked the freezer open and began pulling pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream out and dumping them into the garbage.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "What are you doing? Those are your favorites."

"Not anymore," she said as she threw the last of the offensive pints into the garbage. She tried to pull the garbage bag out of the plastic can, but it started to tear. Frustrated, she released it and began dragging the entire can to the front door. She grabbed the door knob and turned, but the door wouldn't open. I'd locked everything up tight as soon as Hector had left. Her breathing became choppy, but she wasn't ready to give up. Her hand hovered over the keypad, unable to remember the code. In a fit of rage, she tugged and kicked the door until the alarm started going off. The piercing sound had her covering her ears. I quickly deactivated the alarm and disengaged the floor bolt and bar across the center of the door.

As soon as the door was open, I expected her to run out into the hallway, but instead, she sighed with relief and rested her forehead against the wall beside the door, giving her heart a chance to slow down. I put my hand on her back to offer comfort. She gasped and her whole body tensed. "Babe?" Tentatively, as if I was dealing with a wild animal, I rubbed her shoulders and turned her toward me. Once I had her in my arms, I led her to the couch and helped her sit down. "Sit here while I take the garbage can to the dumpster."

"No!" She grabbed my forearm, shaking her head erratically. "Don't go out there."

I softened my voice and sat down beside her. "Okay, I won't go out." I soothed, holding her against my chest as she clung to me. We sat that way for a few minutes. Finally, her body relaxed. "Would it be okay if I quickly opened the door and set the garbage can outside. I'll call one of my men to take it to the dumpster." She was still for a minute and then her hair tickled my chin as she nodded her head. I waited until she pulled away and sat back on the couch before getting to my feet. Once the garbage was in the hall and the locks were all secured again, I sat back down beside her. "Are you going to tell me what just happened?"

The oven timer dinged, but I ignored it, never breaking eye contact with her. She was shutting me out. For some reason she didn't want me to know what she was thinking or feeling and that hurt. Realizing I wasn't going to get an answer, I got up to take the food out of the oven. I think both of us had lost our appetite. I held my hand out to her. Maybe if she had a moment to get herself together, she'd feel like eating. "Why don't you take a long hot bath while I get dinner ready?"

When she nodded, I pulled her up and put my arm around her as we walked toward the kitchen. While I took the lasagna out of the oven, she continued to the bedroom to gather some clothes. At the sound of things being slammed and banged around in the room, I went to check on her. I found her emptying her drawers onto the floor. She let out an angry sob as she grabbed the handle of the last drawer and turned it upside down. A cascade of intimate silks fell to the ground. Now that she was out of drawers, she moved to the closet, yanking everything within reach off the hangers and throwing them onto the floor.

"Babe." I came up behind her, grabbing her hands to prevent her from doing more damage. "What are you doing?"

She turned around in my arms, anger sparking from every pore. "It's all dirty," she snapped, her eyes darting around the room. "His filthy hands touched everything."

I put gentle pressure on her arms, keeping them down at her sides, but being careful not to hurt her. Immediately, she stopped struggling and buried her face against my chest, clinging to me as she sobbed. I held her while I sat down on the bed with her in my lap. She swiped the moisture away from her eyes and when she could see clearly, she noticed the new bedding. She ran her hand over the fabric. "Where did this come from?" Her voice was hoarse and scratchy.

"Ella bought it. If you don't like it, we can get something else."

I thought she was done crying, but she choked on another sob. She tried to speak but nothing came out. She put her arms around my neck, hugging me tight. "I don't deserve you."

"Babe." I rubbed my hands up and down her back. I was telling her in my own way that she was talking nonsense, but it only made her cry harder. I had to admit, I was getting scared. I could count on one hand the number of times I've seen Stephanie cry. I tightened my arms around her, cradling the back of her head. "You don't have to be tough anymore. If you let me, I'll take care of everything."

I thought my words would make her feel better, but she only cried harder. When she calmed, and there was only the occasional hiccup, she surveyed the mess she'd made.

Before she could get upset again, I said, "Everything is clean. Ella spent a week deep cleaning the entire apartment. All the clothes in the drawers and the closet have been freshly laundered or replaced with new ones." She kept her face against my neck, unable to respond. We sat quietly for a while. "Come stay with me on seven. You can stay as long as you like."


	45. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER 45**

**Quid Pro Quo**

I wanted to say yes. Staying in Ranger's apartment had always made me feel safe, but it was a slippery slope. Needing someone so much that you couldn't function on your own without them wasn't healthy. "I'm going to stay here." I wiped my nose and dried my eyes with the edge of my t-shirt. "But you should go home. I'll be fine."

He lowered his forehead to touch mine, our eyes within centimeters. "If you're staying, I'm staying." He released his hold on me and helped me stand before giving me a pat on the butt, nudging me toward the bathroom. "Go take a bath while I pull dinner together."

I gathered some clothes from the piles on the floor and left the room. While I soaked in the tub, I focused on getting my emotions under control. By the time I came out, I was dressed for bed in my Ghostbuster's t-shirt that came to my knees. With the length of time I'd stayed in the tub, I figured Ranger would have already eaten, but the table was set for two and a large casserole dish covered in foil was waiting in the center along with two small bowls of salad.

He was looking at me from his seat on my couch in the living room. He'd been working on his laptop and as soon as he saw me, he put it back in his bag and got to his feel. "You hungry?" he asked, heading my way.

My stomach growled loud enough for him to hear it while he was still several feet away. He smiled and poured us each a glass of milk and served up generous helpings of vegetable lasagna. We ate in comfortable silence and after we finished, he cleared the table and began washing the dishes. He appeared at home in my kitchen and if the circumstances had been different, I'd have given him a hard time about being domesticated.

He looked over his shoulder. "Are you tired? We could watch a movie or sleep. Whatever you want to do." I put my elbows on the table and rubbed my temples. My earlier crying jag had given me a massive headache and soaking in the tub had done little to ease the pain. "Are you okay?" Ranger moved behind me and started rubbing my shoulders.

"Yeah." It was dangerous to have his hands on me in any way, but for just a minute I enjoyed the massage he was giving me. Even though it felt great, it only served to build the sexual tension between us and I was forced to lean forward, dislodging his hands. Blurring the lines that we'd painstakingly set was a bad idea on all fronts. I pushed away from the table and got to my feet. "I'm tired. I think I'll just take my medication and go to bed."

I couldn't remember where I'd left my bag. I checked the living room and found it lying on the coffee table. With my pill bottles in hand, I went back to the kitchen for water. Ranger already had a glass sitting on the table waiting for me. I took my pills and went into the bedroom, preparing to clean up the mess I'd made. I stopped short. All the clothes that I'd thrown on the floor were now put away. Ranger had cleaned up after me while I was in the bath. I sighed, thinking it was just another reason I owed him.

The light from the kitchen filtered in through my half open door, leaving most of my bedroom in shadows. As I lay in bed, my eyes darted from one dark corner to the other, searching for Durant. I couldn't get my mind to shut down. Thoughts of the cellar whirled around in my brain, torturing me. The longer I was away from him the bigger he seemed to get. I'd built him up in my mind as a monster capable of anything, even coming back from the dead. At least when I was with Joe, he could hold me while I drifted off. Just as I was finally beginning to get drowsy and pass into dreamland, I heard the hinges creak as my bedroom door was pushed open.

I tensed.

The sound of Ranger's zipper separating seemed to echo in the quiet room. All my effort to maintain a healthy distance was obliterated when he slid in behind me, leaving no physical space between us. He pulled me flush against his chest and I could feel the silk of his boxers on my panty covered ass. "What are you doing?" I asked with a touch of wariness.

He rubbed his hand up and down my arm. "Babe, your couch is barely long enough for a kid."

"This isn't a good idea," I reasoned as I tried to scoot forward—to break the connection. "Morelli wouldn't appreciate you being in my bed."

"Morelli's wishes aren't my concern. I'm only interested in what _you_ want," he said. "All you have to do is tell me to get out."

"I'm not feeling particularly entertaining right now," I sighed. Since it was dark and I couldn't see his face, I was feeling bolder than usual and maybe unreasonably snarky because he wasn't backing off. "You'll have to amuse yourself some other way."

His hand stilled on my arm, no longer rubbing reassuringly. "I don't want you to entertain me, Babe." His tone had taken on a hard edge and then it turned gentle again. "None of what I do for you is about amusing myself. I have a short list of people I care about and you're at the top of it."

My throat clogged with unexpressed emotions that I couldn't afford to release right now. I was intentionally being mean because I didn't want him to pull me back in. I couldn't take the roller coaster anymore. Emotionally, I was hanging on by a thread. I needed firm boundaries, or I wasn't going to survive.

"I work hard to keep you safe. I've never been more helpless in my life than while you were missing." His voice was barely above a whisper, but he was using so much force I felt his conviction and what it cost him to admit it. "All the trackers I put on you were useless. I tried every contact, every lead, but you had vanished into thin air."

His desperation slayed me. Silent tears slipped out against my will. I struggled to understand how he could make my heart swell with love one minute and then tell me he doesn't want me the next.

"Don't cry, Babe, just let me hold you so I know you're here with me and safe."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me in the darkened room. He placed his hand over my heart, and I relaxed against him, giving into the feelings that were always present. I may not have a lifetime with him, but I had this moment—and I needed it.

"Talk to me, Babe." He pleaded. "What did he do to you?"

And just like that, the moment was gone. I hadn't realized I'd been clutching Ranger's hand over my heart until I made myself let go. "I'm tired," I said. "I just want to go to sleep."

"We don't have to talk about it now." He captured my hand again, sliding his fingers between mine. "But soon."

Unfair anger struck me hard and fast. He had no right to ask me to cut myself open and bleed every horrible thing Durant did to me while he kept his secrets locked up in a vault not granting me access. That would never happen. I moved my body away from his and let sleep overtake me.

* * *

I jolted awake, heart pounding, sheets sticking to my body. Durant was here. I could feel him on my skin—in my mind—everywhere.

Ranger sat up beside me, and pulled me to him, gently rubbing my back. "It's just a dream. Breathe slowly; don't let panic take over."

Too late.

I slung the blanket off and turned on the lamp. I expected Durant to be sitting in his stupid chair, smiling at me while he pleasured himself. But he wasn't there. Ranger put his hands on my shoulders, drawing me back down on the bed. "Want to talk about it?"

"No," I whispered as I lay quietly waiting for my heart rate to return to normal.

"What can I do to help you, Babe?"

My stomach turned over at the thought of Ranger finding out all the things Durant had done to me. I swung my legs off the side of the bed and got up. He reached to stop me. "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," I said, already halfway across the room.

When I came back to bed, sleep eluded me. In the past, it was a place I cherished—where I was happy. I'd been using it as a way to cope since that horrible day in high school. While I slept, I could pretend my time in the cellar hadn't happened and that day in the locker room hadn't happened. I was in a safe place where no one was trying to hurt me, but now it was no longer working. Like everything else, Durant had taken that away too.

At some point, I fell asleep and woke to sunlight filtering in through the slit in the curtains. Ranger's hand was under my shirt, positioned low on my stomach. He was ignoring the boundaries—again. "Ranger," I whisper as I slowly turned over to face him.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse as his hand settled on my ass, gently massaging me through my panties.

"I thought we had an agreement about boundaries. Having your hand on my ass kind of violates that, don't you think?"

He didn't make a quippy excuse to lighten the mood, he simply stared at me and for once he lowered his guard, letting me see what lay behind the blank mask. The moment passed quickly, but if I wasn't mistaken, I saw sympathy, regret, and maybe, just maybe, I saw raw need. And then the mask fell back into place, taking with it any chance I had of ever knowing what this man was thinking. "When I'm this close to you, Babe, I can't help but touch you."

I don't know what was wrong with me. Ranger was doing nothing that he hadn't done a hundred other times, but I couldn't stop myself. I thought maybe I just needed to be angry at someone. To be able to rage against something since I'd been powerless for so long. "You said friendship was all you could offer." My voice was thin with bits of anger slipping in. "Hector is also my friend, and I never wake up with him rubbing my ass."

Ranger's face didn't change, but something in his eyes did. Laid back, sexy Ranger was replaced with something a little harder. He brushed my hair off my face. "I'm not going to apologize."

I placed my hand on his bare chest, hoping to keep some room between us. The softness was back in his eyes when he took my hand in his, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over the healing wounds on my wrist. "What did he do to you?"

Many times, I've accused him of having ESP, but the truth is, he takes the time to look deeper than the average person. I shut my eyes, afraid that he could see all the things I was hiding from him. I fought the urge to sigh. "I spend every waking minute and even while I sleep trying to forget it all. Why are you pushing me to relive it?"

"You can't keep it bottled up. It'll destroy you."

My eyes blinked open. "You want to know all the gory details?" I asked with a little heat in my voice. "You want to know every horrible thing he did to me?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched. "This is about helping you heal mentally, physically, and emotionally. What you've been through is hard to come back from. Let me help you."

He'd once told me he'd been captured by Colombian rebels. I decided maybe this was an opportunity. If he could let me in and tell me about that time in his life, then maybe I could do the same. "You're probably the only person I know that would understand," I said quietly, keeping his eyes locked with mine. "When you were captured by the Colombian rebels, what was that like?"

His jaw clenched and then he took a slow deep breath, not liking my new version of quid pro quo. "That was classified, but even if I could tell you, I wouldn't. You don't need those images in your head."

I can't say I was surprised by his answer. I took a deep breath and moved to get up. "Then you can understand why I don't want to talk about the cellar."

"Babe." He gently grasped my forearm, pulling me back down on the bed.

I turned to face him. "You're a soldier. You've been through a lot of bad stuff. Not everything you've done is classified. Tell me something that keeps you up at night… something no one else knows." I was so desperate for a part of him that it bordered on begging. I'd never talked to him this boldly or asked for more than he was willing to share, and until now, neither had he.

The longer he was silent, the more important the moment became.

_Let me in, Ranger. I'll give you everything I have, if you'll just open up and let me in. _

I could see the moment he made his decision. His eyes dimmed and slowly closed. When they opened again, he'd put his barriers back in place, both emotionally and physically, taking any lifeline of support he could have offered with him. This was just a cold reminder that I was exactly where he wanted me, on the outside of his life looking in. I took a deep breath in defeat, gave him a quick nod and slid off the bed.

"This isn't about me." He got up quickly and came around the bed, standing in front of me.

At the moment, I felt a lot of things, but the one that was hitting me the hardest was disappointment… with myself. I fell into the same trap that so many other women had fallen into. If I was smarter, I would have seen this coming. I should have listened closer each time he warned me that he couldn't give me what I needed. While I was busy dreaming that I'd be the one woman in the entire world to unlock his heart, I'd let him turn me into a glorified booty-call or fuck buddy or whatever you wanted to call it. I started pulling open drawers, gathering clothes to take into the bathroom with me.

"I watched your face as you told the feds what he did to you. You were lying to them. I think Durant hurt you more than you're saying."

Thankfully, I had my back to him so he couldn't see the truth on my face. I straightened to my full height and turned around with my clothes in my hand. "Believe what you want, Ranger." Not waiting for a response, I started walking toward the bathroom, throwing one last shot over my shoulder. "You should go home… wherever that is."

When I came out, he was dressed and sitting at my kitchen table, patiently waiting. I'd expected him to be angry—and gone.

"I made breakfast; you need to eat," he coaxed.

My stomach made a loud noise at the smell of eggs and bacon. He smiled even though I could tell he was still frustrated. Ignoring the uncomfortable silence hanging in the room, I pulled out a chair and dug into the omelet. Ranger appeared deep in thought, not eating. I glanced over at the garbage can which had magically made its way back into my apartment. There was an empty yogurt container and a paper plate with remnants of a bagel and cream cheese.

I took a sip of coffee and tried to make conversation—a conciliatory move on my part. "This smells great. Thank you."

"I was there," he said. The confusion on my face caused him to clarify. "In the hospital the night you woke up. The night Diesel came to your room."

I didn't know what he was getting at, but whatever it was, bothered him greatly. He leaned his elbows on his knees and turned his face to the side, looking at me. The hurt in his eyes gutted me.

"You told him what happened to you, but you won't tell me. Why?" He hung his head, unable or unwilling to look at me any longer.

I put my fork down and wiped my mouth. "I didn't have to tell Diesel. He has a way of knowing things." I explained and then took a deep breath before continuing. "But you're right. I did talk to him about it and you know what he did? He also shared his feelings with me. It wasn't one sided. That's what friends who trust each other do, Ranger."

He faced me again, his voice turning hard with contempt—completely missing the point. "He knew where you were and did nothing. One phone call from him and I'd have gotten you out of there, but he didn't do that. He left you there. How can you say he's your friend?"

"You don't understand and I'm not sure I can explain so that you would. You just need to trust that I know what I'm doing."

"I do trust you, Babe. It's you who doesn't trust me. I kept telling myself you weren't dead, that I'd feel it." He rubbed his chest, just over his heart. "In here."

He was taking this harder than I thought. I swallowed past the tense knot forming in my throat and tried to affect a calm voice. "I know that you were scared for me, Ranger, but the things that happened in the cellar… they're hard for me to talk about. You of all people should understand that. I won't lay myself open—tell you every horrible thing that happened to me—while you keep me emotionally at arm's length. That's not how this works." I motioned back and forth between us. "You work hard at keeping me in the dark—in my place. I watch how you act and the things you do and make assumptions about who you are and what you've been through in life, but those are only guesses that I foolishly apply—they're not real."

I thought his face would have softened in understanding, but it was blank. He wasn't getting it. Maybe he didn't _want_ to get it.

"He took you away and I almost didn't get you back." His slid to his knees in front of me, putting his arms around my waist as I sat in the kitchen chair. "If you hadn't found a way out, I'd have lost you." He was as close to tears as I'd ever seen him. "Just talk to me, Babe."

I ran my hand through his short hair and tried to relieve him of some of the guilt he was carrying. "I trust you more than any other person in this world, but it's not your responsibility to take care of me. It's not like you were out partying while I was suffering—you were working. As soon as you noticed I was missing, I know you did everything you could to find me. That's what kept me going. I'd do the same for you, 'no price', remember?"

I must have said something wrong because his entire body stiffened, but before I could ask, a knock sounded at the door. He avoided looking at me as he got to his feet and went to the door. As soon as Hector walked in, Ranger grabbed his bag from the couch and slung it over his shoulder. "I have a client meeting." He kissed me on the forehead and turned to Hector. "Keep an eye on her today."

After the door closed behind Ranger, Hector locked it and came over to sit with me on the couch. There was something troubling in his eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes. Now stop dodging and tell me what's wrong." I sighed. "You're scaring me."

He took a slow deep breath as if preparing for an unpleasant task. "For too long, I watch the cop treat you poorly." His chest rose and fell in a rapid staccato of anger.

"I don't understand, Hector. What are you trying to tell me?"

"Come with me. There is something I need to show you."

"What is it? What do you want to show me?" Hector flattened his lips, trying to temper his anger, but it was coming through loud and clear. "Just spit it out, Hector."

He took a deep breath, his nostril's flaring. "The cop is lying to you. He has been cheating on you for months."


	46. Chapter 46

**CHAPTER 46**

**A Little Birdie Told Me**

I reared back, blinking slowly as I tried to understand why Hector would say such a thing. Joe's done a lot to hurt me over the years, but he wouldn't do that. Especially not after he asked me to marry him. I vigorously shook my head, hoping he'd take his words back, but he just continued staring at me with a pained look on his face. "You're mistaken," I said with more certainty than I felt, denying the niggling doubt in the back of my mind that I always ignored.

"I could not let you marry him without knowing he was worthy," he calmly stated, his eyes never wavering as he waited patiently for me to ask the questions that now plagued me.

I felt an icy chill course through me. "How do you know?" I studied his eyes for the truth. "Did you see him? With who? Where?" Once I started, the questions wouldn't stop. They rolled off my tongue as if they'd been patiently waiting for this moment to arrive.

"He is in Philly, with the mob girl."

_Mob girl? _

I jumped up, looking down at him as I shook my head in vehement denial. "No, he's not. He's on assignment for the police department." A hot and painful sensation prickled across my skin, replacing the chill I'd felt moments before, branding me as the gullible idiot I was. "Are you telling me he lied about having to work—that he's shacked up with Terry Gilman, right now?"

Hector slowly stood, placing his hand on my arm to comfort me. His mouth twisted as if he was in pain, but he held my gaze, willing me to accept the truth.

"Wait!" The shock was wearing off and I realized I was jumping to conclusions. Joe and Terry often worked together. This was just one of those times. I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's okay Hector." I touched his arm to show I wasn't mad. "She provides leads for him sometimes on his cases."

His facial expression didn't change. He covered my hand with his and shook his head in regret. "After you told me of his proposal, I tagged his car with a GPS tracker. The day after Christmas, when you were kidnapped, he was at the same house he is at now. The GPS tracker indicates he spent a week there."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, but I was still grasping at anything that would make sense of this. "Maybe they were undercover."

"It is her house. He was with her when I called to tell him you were missing. I did not stay with you last night because I followed him and watched her house. This morning, I see them leave together. They were… kissing."

"But… "

His eyes held mine. "There is no case. I checked."

I shook my head, unable to fully comprehend what he was telling me. If it was true, everything Joe told me was a lie… even the marriage proposal. I should have seen it coming. Hector's attitude toward Joe suddenly made sense. "Is this why you've been rude to him?"

"The week before you escaped from the cellar he was with her." His face turned red with rage. "El puto gilipollas (The fucking asshole) does not deserve my respect."

My mouth went dry and I thought I was going to be sick. "He was wi… with her while I was in the… in the cellar?" Durant had told me he saw Joe with a blonde woman. I'd thought he was lying, that he was just trying to get under my skin, but he wasn't. For once, he'd told me the truth.

Hector looked down at his feet as if witnessing the disappointment on my face was too much for him to bear.

I always knew there was a place in Joe's heart for Terry, but an ongoing relationship… with a love nest? How long has this been going on? Did he ever love me? I had questions… lots of questions. I took a cleansing breath and grabbed my coat. "Let's go."

* * *

Hector and I had been parked down the street from the mid-size Craftsman bungalow for over an hour, waiting to get a visual on Joe. We were in a 1960's Volkswagen panel van that looked like it was only one step away from being towed to the junkyard when in reality it ran perfectly and was decked out with all the latest high tech equipment on the inside. Even, Joe, a seasoned detective, would have a hard time making us.

The sun had begun its descent, casting shadows over the area like an umbrella of doom. I'd almost convinced myself Hector was mistaken, but I couldn't ignore Joe's SUV parked in the driveway beside Terry's silver BMW. I fidgeted in my seat, never good at waiting. Just when I thought I'd lose my mind, Joe and Terry emerged from the house. We were too far away to hear them, but I didn't miss the way Joe's arm draped low on her hip or how she threw her head back in laughter. As soon as they drove away, Hector and I donned black latex gloves and made our way to the house. He was going to plant surveillance equipment so we could monitor everything from the van.

Just thinking about entering that house made my stomach churn.

In seconds, he had the alarm disabled and we were inside. I heard clicking sounds coming toward us and stopped short, my heart hammering in my chest, and then a large orange blur bounded around the corner.

Bob? He was supposed to be at Mooch's.

The pain in my chest was making it hard to breathe. This was a different kind of betrayal, but it hurt just as bad. Bob was our dog, not hers. He whimpered and I leaned down to scratch his head. After a few minutes, he trotted back to the kitchen like this was his home away from home. A tear slipped down my face splattering on the hardwood floor. I turned away so Hector couldn't witness how deep my pain went, and that's when I noticed the romantic scene in the living room.

Two abandoned wine glasses sat on the coffee table along with a half bottle of wine. Beside that was a framed photo of Joe and Terry taken when they were younger.

They looked… in love.

Hector began setting up the equipment, gallantly pretending he hadn't noticed my anguish. As I walked into the kitchen, Bob raised his head off his plaid dog bed, wagging his tail. He was as clueless as I was.

A black high heeled sandal with the heel separated from the base of the shoe was sitting on the kitchen table. According to the red sole, it was an expensive designer shoe, which explained why a bottle of clear Gorilla Super glue was sitting beside it.

Past the kitchen was a hallway that led to the room I dreaded most. A smothering weight took shape in my chest, crushing me with each step. I could smell the musky scent of sex before I entered the bedroom. Her red negligee was draped across the king size bed and the bedding was in disarray. A sour feeling burned in my stomach when I saw at least half a dozen empty foil packets scattered on the sheets, the carpet, and the nightstand. It looked like they'd had themselves a good old time.

I took in the rest of the room, noticing scented candles adding to the ambiance, most burned down at least halfway. This had been their love nest for longer than I dared to think about.

How many times had he left my bed for hers?

My heart constricted at the thought and tears distorted my vision. My hands itched to pick up the matches and burn this place to the ground.

In the closet, I found Joe's favorite green Henley, the one I bought for his last birthday, innocently hanging among her silky designer pieces. There was also a stack of his shirts, pants, socks, and underwear as well as a pair of tennis shoes on the floor. I turned the light off and stepped out of the closet. An abandoned book lay on the nightstand to the left of the bed and a lone lamp on the other. Joe never read anything for fun, so I knew which side was hers. I picked up the book, noticing it was a popular romantic suspense novel, and laid it back the way it had been. I pulled the drawer open; face cream, hand lotion, and a vibrator were inside. I walked around to the other side. This one had to be Joe's. My chest fluttered with dread as I slowly opened the drawer. There were boxes of condoms, sex toys, and several bottles of oils and lube inside. I squeezed my eyes shut and slammed the drawer, wishing I could go back in time and un-see everything I'd just seen. I barely made it to the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed before my legs gave out. This was more than an occasional screw while undercover. This was a… relationship.

I pulled the engagement ring from the pocket of my jeans, turning it over and over in my hand, watching the light glint off the facets of the diamond. I'd been holding on to it like a talisman, hoping Hector had been wrong and Joe and I would end up laughing about the whole big misunderstanding. Well, I wasn't laughing now. In fact, the longer I sat here, the angrier I became. The lube and oil in his drawer kept tormenting me.

"Are you finished, Angelita?"

I jumped. His voice resonated through the silence, jarring me out of my thoughts. "Yeah," I said, peering up at him through glassy eyes, my voice thick with emotion.

His nostrils flared and the muscles in his jaw flexed. He held his hand out to help me up. As I followed him back through the house, my hand still clutched in his, my eyes landed on the glue sitting on the kitchen table. It was similar in color, size, and shape to the bottles of oil in Joe's drawer. My hand was moving before I consciously decided to make the switch.

Like Joe, I guess I couldn't help myself against temptation.

I picked off the identifiable picture of the gorilla on the label, making it even easier to mistake for the oil, but the words super glue was still clearly visible if you took the time to look. I calmly walked back to the bedroom and dropped the bottle in the drawer. I doubted Joe would be fooled, he normally didn't use oils and lube, or at least not with me. When I turned around, Hector quirked an eyebrow and smirked knowingly at me. It should have made me feel better, but it didn't.

* * *

Hector and I were sitting in the back of the van, watching the bank of monitors. An hour later, Joe and Terry returned to the house. The camera Hector planted on the front porch gave us a front row seat as Joe pulled her in for a long kiss. I knew that kiss. It came with a promise of balls to the walls sex. Tears welled in my eyes as the image burned into my brain. My heart. My soul.

As they moved into the house Hector switched to a different screen, allowing us to view the living room, where Joe was currently running his hand under Terry's silk blouse while she moaned and ground her pelvis against his groin. I pulled out my phone, curious to see what Joe would do if I called. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips away from her and checked the screen. His face showed no sign of guilt when he declined my call. It sent a sharp pain straight to my heart. I rubbed my hand over the area, desperately trying to ease the sting.

Hector growled with rage and reached over to hold my trembling hand in his. Our eyes went back to the screen when Joe started backing Terry down the hall toward the bedroom, intermittently kissing her on the way. He stopped at the threshold, turned her around, and smacked her ass. "Get naked; I've got a call to make."

In a flash, she was in his face, eyes blazing. "You're going to call HER?"

He gave her a pointed look that had her storming into the bedroom and slamming the door. He stood there for a moment, and I wasn't sure whether he was going to call me back or go be with her. Finally, he walked back through the house and out onto the front porch. Even though I was watching him and knew he was placing a call, I still jumped when my phone rang.

I cleared my throat, trying to erase the anger from my voice. "Hey, Joe."

His face broke out into a grin. "I only have a minute, Cupcake. I was in an important meeting when you called. They gave us a short break and then I have to get back."

_Liar. _

I swallowed the sour taste in my mouth and injected a note of happiness in my voice. "Well, I guess it's my good luck they gave you a break because I have something to tell you."

His smile disappeared, replaced with worry and uncertainty. "Are you okay?"

_How easily I would have been fooled into believing he cared about me if I wasn't witnessing his deception first-hand._

"I'm fine," I said, pausing to give weight to my next words. "I wanted to tell you that I love you with all my heart and my answer is, YES. I will marry you, Joe." My thumb moved back and forth over the ring I'd just placed on my fourth finger. "I'm wearing the engagement ring as we speak. As of this moment we are officially engaged." I ended my speech with a note of happiness I didn't feel.

I saw a broad smile spread across his face as he fished his keys out of his pocket. My foolish heart cheered. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe we could salvage our relationship. I wasn't innocent. I'd done so many things with Ranger that weren't fair to Joe. I resolved to forget about everything—start with a clean slate—if he'd come home right now.


	47. Chapter 47

**CHAPTER 47**

**Curiosity Killed the Cat**

AN: I'm so excited to share this chapter. If you have a favorite part, write and review and let me know.

"When I get back, I'm going to take you out and celebrate." Even though we were on the phone, I could hear his desire as if he was sitting beside me.

"Do you think you could come home early?" I wasn't above begging. After all, this was my future I was fighting for.

He was halfway to his car before he stopped and hung his head, shaking it as if he were wrestling with an impossible decision. "I can't leave yet," he whispered roughly. The frustration in his voice would have made me believe he was desperate to come home to me if only he didn't have to honor his duty as a public servant. But I knew better. He wasn't pining away for me while he was on assignment. He was choosing to be with another woman. When he turned back to the house and started walking, I knew I'd lost him. "There's nothing I'd like more than to come home right now, but there are things I have to finish here." He paused as he reached for the front door handle. "I've got plans for you when I get home. Get some rest, Cupcake, I love you."

He hung up without waiting for me to say the words back to him and went inside the house. It was just as well. Words had failed me. My eyes followed him on the monitors as he made his way through the house, shedding his shirt as he went. My hopes sunk with each step.

_Please, don't do this Joe! Please don't throw me away again. _

My vision narrowed, turning blurry and gray, until the inside of the van slipped away and all I could see was the video screens. Hector had aimed a camera at the head and foot of the bed. Unfortunately, the picture was crystal clear and so was the audio. Joe's eyes sparked with a familiar fire as he took in Terry's naked body, lying on the bed, legs spread seductively. "You're so beautiful," he said in a husky voice, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes, his dick rock hard, pointing straight at her.

She licked her lips and stretched like a cat, purring as she watched his eyes travel over her body. "Look who's talking, my Italian Stallion."

He barked out a laugh at the unofficial title he'd been given years ago and climbed on top of her, placing his knees in between her legs. His eyes followed his finger as he ran it from her belly button down to the top of her mound. "I learned everything I know from practicing on this body."

She giggled. "Do you remember our first time?"

He lifted his eyes to hers. "Yours was the first pussy I'd ever been inside."

"And mine should have been the only pussy." She cocked an eyebrow at him and then turned pensive. "If I had been born into any other family, we'd be happily married," she said with regret before her frown turned into a smile, "and maybe we'd have a little Joey by now."

My heart cracked. This felt so much worse than what he'd done to me in the bakery all those years ago. After he pulled out of my tender, newly used body, I thought he was going to hold me, only to realize he was pulling his pants up to walk away. I took a deep breath and did my best to push the feelings of betrayal away. Joe and I were over. I'd known it in my head before I came here, and now my heart had gotten the memo.

The sound of Terry's moans brought the screen back into focus. They were kissing breathlessly, hands roaming each other's bodies. Just as he slipped his fingers inside her, he pulled his lips from hers and began kissing his way down her neck to her breasts and then lower, not stopping until his face was between her legs. I gagged as wet slurping sounds filled the van.

"I'm going to come," she screamed.

Joe stopped and peered up at her, his mouth glistening with her juices, contemplating her with the same roguish leer he'd given me countless times.

"Don't you dare deny me," she scolded, her voice harsh with need.

I watched him remove his fingers from inside her, seductively slipping each one in his mouth and then happily licking them clean. My stomach revolted when I thought of all the times he'd kissed me with those same lips. I pressed my hand over my mouth, willing the vomit to stay down.

In seconds, he'd donned a condom from the bedside drawer and thrust into her. She let out a shriek when the top of her head hit the wooden headboard and started gasping and screaming for him to move faster… harder. Her eyes scrunched up in frustration when he pulled out of her and sat back on his heels. "Get on your knees," he ordered. "I'm going to take your ass."

She gave him a saucy look as she moved her body onto her hands and knees, her head down and her ass lifted into position. "I know it's your favorite, but do you think you've been good enough to deserve it?" She coyly peered over her shoulder at him.

He smiled playfully and then his hand flew at her ass, striking hard and fast. She yelped and pushed back against his groin, grinding enthusiastically. They had an intimacy I didn't know existed. It explained her knowing smiles every time I ran into her.

What a fool I'd been.

Joe reached into the drawer again, pulling out the bottle of lube, and squeezed. When nothing came out, he shook it and tried again. "It's empty," he complained.

"There's a bottle of oil in there." She wiggled her ass impatiently.

He rummaged around in the drawer until he found what he was searching for. I knew I should stop him when I saw it was the bottle of glue and not oil. I'd only peeled off the picture of the gorilla. The word glue was still visible if he took the time to read the label. It wasn't my fault if he was in a hurry.

"It is not too late to stop this," Hector said.

I kept my eyes on the screen, not wanting to see the pity on his face. Placing the glue in the drawer had been a knee jerk reaction. I honestly didn't think things would get this far, but I wasn't going to stop them either. "Joe made his choice and now he's going to find out that his actions have consequences."

We watched Joe unknowingly smear a liberal amount of glue between Terry's ass cheeks and on his cock. Lucky for him, he was wearing a condom. It would minimize the amount of his skin that came in contact with the glue, but it was still going to hurt because Joe didn't know the meaning of the word manscape.

He wiped his slick palm on the sheets then placed both hands on her hips and slowly pushed into her asshole. "Oooh," she hissed and dropped her forehead to the bed. "Slow down. It burns." Joe's eyes fluttered half open in pure ecstasy. When he'd seated himself all the way, she panted for breath. "Give me a minute."

His damp chest hovered over her back as he tenderly kissed the side of her neck. "Do you know how much I love you?" he asked.

"Which do you love more; me or my ass?" She lifted her head and smiled back at him.

"It's a fine ass." He smacked her playfully on the butt.

She laughed and started wiggling her hips to let him know she was ready for him to move. He gave her one more kiss, straightened himself upright, and in one swift motion he jerked his hips backward.

Shrieks shot out of the speakers, reverberating off the metal walls of the van. Joe's eyes became comically large and his face was drawn back in frozen shock. Terry's face wasn't much better. Her mouth was gaped open, and her back was arched like a horse neighing in panic. Instinctively, Joe rammed his dick back inside her and held still.

"Shit! Don't move," he said as sweat ran down his red face.

"What the hell?" Terry screamed. "That fucking hurt!" Her nostrils flared with each controlled breath. When she started whining pitifully, I felt sorry for her—for a minute. But then her whining got higher and higher in pitch, until Bob let out an irritated bark. A quick glance at the monitor in the kitchen showed Bob with his ears perked up, looking around to see where that awful noise was coming from. I had to put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

Joe's muscles vibrated from the strain of holding his body off hers. "We're stuck together," he said as a continuous line of sweat dripped down his face and onto his chest, mingling with the moisture already there.

"Stuck!" she screeched. "How can we be stuck? We're not dogs."

Joe's eyes went to the bedside table, specifically to the bottle innocently sitting there. Careful not to move his groin in any way, he reached for it. As he read the label, his nostrils flared and he squeezed his eyes closed. "Glue!" he roared. "It's fucking glue." He threw the bottle at the wall and his face twisted in a painful grimace when the movement caused his groin to jerk against her ass.

"Oww," she screamed and then his words registered in her brain. "Glue?" Terry asked in angry confusion. "Why would you use glue?"

"It's the glue to fix your shoe," he said with disgust. "Why the fuck would you put it in the drawer with the condoms?"

"I didn't!" she shouted angrily, offended that he would blame her.

"Well, it didn't get the fuck up and walk itself in here, now did it?"

"Stop yelling at me." She started to cry. "This isn't my fault!"

Joe blew out a frustrated breath and tried to assess the situation by moving his hips a little. A pained expression passed over his face at the same time Terry howled. "Stop. Stop. Stop. It hurts!"

"Well, it's no picnic for me either, honey. Every time I move, hairs are being ripped out and it hurts like a mother fucker."

She turned her head to the side to see him better and bit her lip in consternation. She'd had her ass perched in the air for so long; her legs were starting to tremble. "Just pull out slowly," she demanded. "I want you out of my ass… now!"

The audio was so clear I could hear the whistling sound of his breath as he sucked air into his lungs and began pushing her hips away. I couldn't help wincing along with him as I watched his eyes water. He took quick, controlled breaths as if he was a woman in labor and little by little, they separated until he was free. His penis was limp and bare. The condom had slipped off and was stuck to Terry's ass… as well as half his bush.

As soon as he was free, Terry's legs collapsed, and Joe fell over onto the bed beside her. While he concentrated on getting his breathing under control, Terry reached back to inspect the damage to her ass. When she felt the dangling condom, she grabbed onto it, pulling it until it was stretched as far as it could go and then released it. It popped back against her ass with a snap. "Get it off!" she screamed and wiggled in fitful jerks.

Joe ignored her, focusing on his own problems. He'd been staring at the ceiling while he waited for the pain to ease, but finally got the courage to look down at his cock. His mouth opened in indignation at his defaced manhood. He grabbed his phone and started googling the glue company. "Do you have any acetone? It says here it'll dissolve the glue."

"In the drawer in the bathroom," she said, barely stopping her hissy fit to answer him.

"The drawer?" He turned his head toward her, arching his eyebrows. "Are you sure it's not more glue?"

Terry growled and gave him a murderous look. Without another word, he went into the bathroom and came back with a bottle of acetone and cotton balls. "You have bald spots," she snickered. "It looks like your crotch has the mange."

"Yeah, well, you don't look so good either. It looks like a Chia Pet is growing out of your ass."

For a minute, she looked outraged and then her face scrunched up until tears started streaming.

"Quit crying," he said, and without warning dribbled acetone down her crack.

Her body jerked. "Damnit, that's cold!"

He poured more acetone on a cotton ball and started rubbing. "It's working." It took a few minutes, but he was finally able to pull the condom off her ass cheek. He handed her the cotton ball so she could get the rest of the glue and his hair off by herself. Then he started working to get the glue off his own crotch without dissolving his dick.

"It's not my fault," Terry said in a small voice.

"I know," he sighed as he searched for his discarded clothes, grabbed them and took them into the bathroom with him. After he closed the door, the water turned on in the shower, leaving Terry alone on the bed, viciously rubbing the cotton ball up and down her crack. Several minutes later, he came out fully dressed.

A flash of fear crossed Terry's eyes. "Where are you going?"

"Get dressed," he said coolly. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"I don't need to go to the hospital, Joey. The glue's almost all off now."

"It's not up for discussion." He said and left the room. She awkwardly got off the bed, and sauntered to the shower, bow-legged and cursing all the way.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

**A Trouble Shared Is A Trouble Halved**

**Hector's POV**

I cast a wary glance in Angelita's direction. She was eerily quiet as she stared at the video monitor. The only movement was the occasional blink of her eyes as she watched Morelli sitting on the living room couch, elbows on his knees, hands on each side of his head, waiting for Gilman to get out of the shower. He looked like a man with big regrets. I didn't feel sorry for him and I hoped that Angelita wouldn't fall for any of his excuses. Seeing this for herself was hard for her, but it had been necessary.

What she'd done today had shocked the shit out of me. Before I brought her here, I'd gone through the house and seen his stash of sex products in his bedside drawer. The likelihood of him mistaking it for his favored lubricant was pretty good. Obviously, Stephanie thought the same thing. I could have stopped her, but I thought she deserved her pound of flesh after what they've been doing behind her back.

If she hadn't taken action against them, I would have. But my plan would have involved releasing the recording of this evening's activities. After I got through with them, neither Morelli nor Gilman would have been able to look anyone in the face. For now, I'd hold onto the recording as insurance. The cop would stay out of her life or I'd make him. And if he tried to hurt her in any way, he'd be signing his death warrant, but he wouldn't know that until it was too late.

Finally, Gilman came out of the bedroom, walking slowly, and they got into her car and drove away, presumably to the urgent care center. Angelita watched as the car disappeared down the street. I wondered what was going on inside her head, but instead of asking, I said, "Stay here while I remove the equipment." I slid the van door open and sprinted to the house.

On the way back to the van, I remembered to grab the GPS transmitter from Morelli's SUV. Now that Angelita was aware of his betrayal, I wouldn't need to keep track of his movements any longer. I slowed as I got closer to the van, wondering what I could say to her to make her pain bearable. I was worried about her. She should be crying or expressing her feelings in some way. It wasn't good to hold it all inside. I slid the van door open and deposited the equipment in their cases. Even though the screens were now blank, she still stared at them as if she was seeing the scene replaying over and over. "Let me help you into the front," I said, holding my hand out to her.

At the sound of my voice, she startled, and like a trusting child she put her hand in mine. I helped her out of the back and into the front passenger seat, buckled her in, and we got on the road, heading home. We were halfway back to Trenton and she still hadn't said a word. Her silence worried me. I needed Lester. He always knew how to coax a smile out of her, but he wasn't here. I was going to have to bring her out of this by myself. "Are you okay?" I asked, and then immediately groaned. Of course, she wasn't okay.

She stared out the passenger window at the passing cars. Her voice was faint when she finally spoke. "Does Ranger know?"

I'd never betray her trust. Ranger hadn't ordered me to follow Morelli. I did this all on my own because I had a bad feeling about the cop. My answer was quick and truthful. "I have not told him about my surveillance."

She turned to look at me. "Are you going to tell him?"

The truth about Ranger and his Miami puta almost slipped out, but I couldn't do that to her, not right now. Besides, Ranger is not in a relationship with Angelita. Technically he hadn't been doing anything wrong. But if he continued to string her along, he would answer to me. "No. I may work for Rangeman, but you have my complete loyalty."

She waited a beat and then nodded her head. "Thank you."

Now that she was talking, I had something I needed to know. "You told Morelli that you were going to marry him. What are you going to do?"

"Break up with him," she said without hesitation.

I hoped it was that simple, but she did have a weakness for Morelli. I've seen plenty of women betrayed by their men and watched as they went back to them time and time again. I had to know that she would stand by her decision. "Women have a way of making excuses for men they love."

I glanced at her as I drove and saw in her eyes that her decision had conviction. "You don't have to worry about that, I know it's over." I believed her.

I focused back on the road. After what happened today, I didn't think she'd want Ranger to stay the night again. She would need some space to deal with her feelings. Halfway to Trenton, I said, "I will stay the night tonight."

"I think I'd like to have Mary Lou come and stay with me if that's alright."

Of course, it was alright. She only had to ask anything of me, and I'd do it. "Call her," I suggested.

She placed the call and we finished the drive in silence. By the time we pulled into her parking lot, it was dark outside. We took the elevator up to her apartment. I checked the sensors to make sure no one had been inside. "I will stay with you until your friend gets here." I took a seat beside her on the couch and put my arm around her. She leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed.

"Can we keep this between us?" she asked.

"I do not know what you are talking about," I deadpanned.

She snorted.

Several minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I got up to check the video monitor and saw that her friend Mary Lou was here. When I opened the door, she took one look at me, and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. I gave a satisfied smile. It gives me pleasure to know that I've still got it. Angelita had crossed the room to greet her friend. After they hugged, I pulled her in close and whispered in her ear. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Thank you for telling me the truth. It had to be hard for you."

"The cop is pendejo (asshole). He is no good for you." I kissed her cheek and waited in the hall for her to close and lock the door. I didn't walk away until I heard her engage both bolts and set the alarm.

* * *

**Stephanie's POV**

I locked up and as soon as I turned around, Mare had switched into maternal mode. "You sounded strange on the phone. Are you okay?" She inspected me from head to toe. "This is going to require wine, isn't it?" She didn't wait for an answer. She pulled two bottles of red wine out of her massive sized purse and placed them on the coffee table before going into the kitchen. When she came back, she had two wine glasses and a corkscrew in her hand. She pulled me down on the couch beside her and began struggling to get the bottle open. Since I had one hand in a cast, I wasn't much help. Finally, the cork popped, and she poured each of our glasses to the very top.

This wasn't a good idea. Red wine made me sad and whiny and then gave me a headache before I passed out. But I didn't listen to my experience. I wanted to blot out everything I'd seen today, and this was a quick way to do that. Mare clicked her glass with mine and we took large gulps.

The next thing I knew, I was bursting into tears. I couldn't stop the scene with Joe and Terry from playing out in my head. I saw everything like it was happening all over again. I was torturing myself and I couldn't stop. How many times had he left me and gone to her? I wanted to scream and cry and rage against his lies.

Mare's eyes narrowed in worry. She'd been so happy when I told her that Joe had proposed in Cuba. "Spill it," she said. So, I did. As I told her about what I saw today, she went through the appropriate reactions. First, she smiled when I told her how attentive and loving Joe had been since I'd been back. She practically beamed with joy when I told her that I'd accepted his proposal. Her mouth hung open in shock when I told her about Joe's love nest. And finally, she scowled in hatred when I told her I witnessed him having sex with Terry Gilman. "That bastard!" she sneered. "I hope he catches crabs from her!" As soon as the words left her mouth, she started laughing hysterically.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"You said that most of his hair… down there," she covered her mouth, trying to keep from laughing, "was missing." When she hiccupped, I started smiling along with her. "He can't catch crabs… if he doesn't have any hair left… for the little buggers to crawl around in."

I laughed harder than I had in weeks. "Thanks, Mare," I said as I tried to get it together. "I can always count on you to put things in perspective." She was the sister of my heart—my champion—my supporter—and I loved her.

After the laughter died down, she shrugged. "You know how men are. It could just be about sex."

"I don't think so." I shook my head for emphasis. "You didn't see the way he was with her."

"So, what was his plan?" she snarled. "Did he think you and Terry would become sister wives?"

I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and put my arm around her. "I wouldn't consider being a sister wife with anyone but you." She propped her feet beside mine in a show of solidarity and made a weird face as she stared at the blank TV screen. "Do you—" I started to ask.

"Quiet," she shushed me. "I'm plotting his murder."

I nudged her shoulder. "Have you been watching CSI again?"

She pointed her finger at me accusingly. "You and Hector got to have all the fun! I thought I was your partner when it comes to spying on that cheating bastard."

"You are," I assured her as I reached for the bottle of wine that we'd tucked in between the couch cushions to keep it from falling over. After I topped off my glass, and took another sip, I informed her, "But I won't need your services in the future because I'm steering clear of relationships for the rest of my life."

She gave me a look that said, uh huh… we'll see about that and then changed the subject. "Have you eaten?"

Hector had offered to stop on the way to and from Philly, but I'd been too wound up to think about eating. When I realized I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, I started laughing uncontrollably.

Mare looked at me like I'd gone stark raving mad. "What?" she asked.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast," I managed to say between laughs.

At first, she was horrified. I was still grossly underweight, and it reminded her of what I'd been through. But my laughing fit was contagious. She tried not to join in, but she couldn't help herself. In between laughs, she asked, "What's so funny about that?"

"For weeks I was so hungry I couldn't think straight and now, thanks to Joe, I've lost my appetite."

That sobered her up. Her eyes filled with tears and she flung herself at me, hugging me tightly. "Oh, Steph. I'm here for you. Whatever you need." I nodded against her chest, feeling lucky that I had a best friend like her. Her life has been like a sit-com compared to mine, but anytime I've needed her she's always been there. She finally let me go and pulled her phone out of her purse. "Wine on an empty stomach is not a good idea. I'll order Pino's. How does meatball subs sound?" I agreed and she placed our order.

While we waited for our food to be delivered, she opened the second bottle of wine. She had just filled her glass when my phone rang. Since it was lying out in the open on the coffee table, she could read the caller ID. "It's Joe!" she whisper-yelled as if he could hear her even though we hadn't answered the phone yet.

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away. "I don't want to talk to him."

"If you don't talk to him, he'll get suspicious." Her words began to slur as she leaned in close to my face and whispered very slowly, drawing out each syllable. "He can't know you had anything to do with the _sticky_ situation." She bit her lip to keep from laughing at her creativity. Her face started to turn red and then she snorted as she fell over onto the couch cushion. Watching her was the funniest thing I'd seen in a long time. I joined in her laughter. It was like we were thirteen again. Finally, the phone stopped ringing.

We both stared at the quiet phone still lying on the coffee table. "Think!" She sat up and began waving her hand in circles as if that would bring power to our brains. "We have to figure out what you're going to say before he calls back. Don't forget, Terry's connected to the MOB." She dragged the word out in exaggerated slowness. "If she finds out you're responsible for her ass needing a lawn mower, she'll have you fit with cement boots and thrown in the Delaware."

I felt my eyes bug out. Oh boy! I didn't want to be in trouble with the MOB, and I really didn't want to get thrown off a bridge… again. But because of our saturated alcohol content, I thought it was funny. I couldn't hold the snicker in. And Just like Mare predicted, the phone rang again. "Shit!" we both said at the same time.

She reached for the phone and tossed it to me. "Answer it!"

I screamed and threw it back to her. "I don't know what to say. You answer it."

She threw it right back to me. "Just act normal." She rapidly nodded her head and narrowed her eyes to appear wise.

I cleared my throat and put the phone to my ear. "Hey, Joe. How are you?" I spoke extra slow so he wouldn't suspect I'd been drinking. I did not need to hear a lecture from him about anything.

There was silence from his end, and I wondered where Terry was. Would he call me with her sitting right next to him?

Mare nodded her head encouragingly and whispered, "Ask him about his meeeeeting."

I nodded. That was good. Mare was really smart. "Did you have a good meeting?" I enunciated each word carefully.

He was silent for a minute and then he said, "You're acting weird? Have you been drinking?"

"I—" I hesitated and then realized I didn't owe him an explanation… not anymore. "I'm a grown woman, Joe. If I want to have a drink, I'll have a drink." Mare was nodding her head approvingly, like I was a genius, and then she leaned in close, putting her ear next to the phone so she could hear him better.

"I called a minute ago," he said. "Why didn't you answer?"

Mare pointed to the bathroom. "I must have been in the bathroom," I told him.

"Okay, I just wanted to let you know I won't be back until late Sunday night or maybe Monday morning."

"Oh," I managed to sound disappointed. "I thought you were coming home sooner."

"One of the guys on the team got sick and I had to take him to the urgent care center. I need to cover for him until he gets better." There was no discernible deception in his voice. He sounded as earnest as always.

Even though I was boiling with anger at his deception, I was able to muster some fake concern. "I hope your friend gets better and I hope you don't catch whatever they have." Mare almost choked as she tried to stifle her laugh.

He turned the focus away from him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

"Is someone staying with you tonight?"

I wanted to tell him Ranger was staying overnight since I knew he wouldn't like that, but I didn't. "Mary Lou's here. We're having a girl's night."

"That's nice. You girls have fun. I love you, Cupcake."

Hearing his lies had cut through my alcohol addled brain, igniting my anger like a match dropped on a can of gasoline. "I know exactly how much you love me, Joe, and I want you to know that I feel the same way about you." He hung up, thinking he'd fooled me like every other time.

Mare and I sat there for a few minutes in the deafening silence. "Steph?" she finally asked, "are you sure things are over with him? You've been in love with him since middle school. All you ever talked about was how perfect it would be to marry Joe Morelli."

"Yeah, but I was a kid, what did I know? Let's not forget Dickie. I fell in love and married him, so clearly my judgment isn't reliable." We both stared at the blank TV screen, not speaking. We had the type of friendship that sometimes didn't require words. We'd known each other since we were in diapers. She'd been there for all the tough times and seen me through them just like she was doing now. I might not be lucky in the man department, but I lucked out with a best friend. Tears filled my eyes and I pulled her in for a crushing hug. When I released my grip on her, she was fighting her own tears.

She placed her hands on each side of my face and narrowed her eyes all serious like. "People are going to show you their true colors, and when they do, you have to believe them." I nodded in agreement with her profound statement. "I learned that at an inspirational seminar my mom took me to. It's from Oprah's friend, Maya Angelou, do you know who that is?"

I shook my head.

"That's okay." She looked at me with pity that I didn't know some random woman she was quoting. I braced myself. There was nothing Mare liked more than sharing what she learns. "Now that Joe's showed you the kind of man he is, you have to believe him," she nodded emphatically. "It's like Dr. Phil always says, 'The best predictor of past behavior is future behavior.'"

I narrowed my eyes as I tried to make sense out of what she'd just said, but I couldn't. "I think you got that backwards." I laughed.

"I did?" Her brows furrowed and then she waved her hand as if it were inconsequential. "Doesn't matter. My point is. Now you know he's a cheater that can't be trusted… right?"

Instead of answering her, I said, "You've been watching too much daytime TV."

"Dr. Phil comes on during Adrian's naptime." She shrugged as if that explained everything.

I was feeling lower than low. I leaned my head on her shoulder, letting my tears fall. "What's wrong with me, Mare? The men I love, either don't want me, or they cheat on me?" I sniffed. "Unless you count serial killers. They always want me."

"You listen to me, Stephanie Plum." She squeezed me closer. "Any man who can't appreciate your beauty, on the inside and the outside, doesn't deserve you."

"You're lucky to have Lenny. He loves you so much."

"One day soon, you'll meet the man who'll love you forever, it's just not the right time yet." As she wiped my tears with her sleeve, there was a knock at the door. Mare went to get the food from the delivery guy, but she couldn't open the door because she didn't know the code to the alarm. It was a good thing Hector had reminded me of it when he left. I got up and went to the door. Before I did anything, I checked the video screen and recognized the delivery kid from Pino's. I punched in the code and disengaged both bolts. Mare paid for our food while I locked up. I wasn't taking safety for granted ever again.

We spread the food out on the coffee table and brought sodas in from the kitchen. As we ate, we entertained revenge scenarios in excruciating detail. Neither Joe nor Terry fared well in any of them. After we'd exhausted those, Mare turned pensive. "I know you think that if you ended up happy with Joe, it would somehow make what happened to you in high school bearable, but it won't."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach and I sat up, glaring at her. "You promised to never talk about that summer."

Her face fell and I thought she was going to cry. "I know I did," she said as she looked down at her lap. "I thought I was being a good friend back then, but what if keeping your secret was the worst thing I could've done for you?" I started to object, but she held her hand up. "Wait, just listen to me," she pleaded. "What happened to you is one of the worst things that can happen to a girl. And it wouldn't have happened if Joe hadn't written those poems about you on the bathroom and stadium walls. He made you a target for revenge. He thought it was all a game. Well, he screwed the wrong guys girlfriend and you paid the price."

I couldn't believe she was bringing all of this up now. I never wanted to think about Mason Treadwell let alone talk about what he did to me.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes and then her eyes sparked as if she just remembered something. "And let's not forget what happened last year. Dave Brewer almost killed you because Joe slept with his prom date back in high school. All this time, I've kept my mouth closed, because you were happy, but—" She sighed angrily. "You've been attacked twice now. How many times do you have to pay because Joe can't keep his dick in his pants?"

I swallowed the knot in my throat and stared at the floor. What could I say? Everything she said was true, even if it was brutal to hear.

"And now he's strung you along while cheating on you," she added.

"I'm done with him," I said.

She studied me for a minute and saw the truth in my words. She gave me a nod and picked up her phone, scrolling through her playlist. While she searched for a song, she asked, "Do you think Hector made a recording of Joe and Terry?"

That was a fair question and now that she'd brought it up, I wondered the same thing. "He didn't mention it, but I'd say he probably did."

Her mouth transformed into an evil smile. "Will you ask him to hook me up? You did a good job describing it, but I wouldn't mind seeing it for myself."

I didn't want to see it again and if Hector had it, I hoped he was keeping it well hidden. Joe would not be happy to find out his, 'sticky situation' as Mare coined it, had been immortalized on film. "If you want to see it that badly, you can ask him yourself."

"Party pooper," she said and returned her attention to her phone. "Ah, here it is." As "Enter Sandman" started playing, she jumped to her feet and then pulled me up with her. "We need to cleanse your apartment of everything belonging to the cheating liar." Mare found a box in my hall closet and we stumbled through my apartment, searching every nook and cranny for anything belonging to Joe. When we were done, we both looked at the nearly empty box. The only things I'd found were a couple outfits and his shaving kit. It seemed pitiful compared to the number of things he'd had stored at Terry's house.

Finally, Mare passed out on the couch, but I was still wide awake, wondering what my life was going to be like now that Joe and I were done. The way things were going, it didn't look like I was ever going to get married or have a kid. I tried telling myself those things weren't meant for me and that I was better off without them. Now I just had to make myself believe it.


	49. Chapter 49

**CHAPTER 49 **

**Liar Liar Pants On Fire**

I ran my hand across the top of Joe's dresser, pausing when I came to a framed picture of us. We were smiling at each other like idiots. I picked it up, remembering the day it'd been taken. Joe had just scored the winning home run in the final game against Jersey City PD. I'd been so proud, I ran onto the field and he picked me up, swinging me in a circle as if I weighed nothing. We looked so in love, or at least I thought so at the time.

The pain in my chest intensified.

I put the picture back and opened my drawer, emptying the contents into the duffle I'd brought with me. I shut the drawer a little too hard and turned around, getting an eyeful of the bed where we'd shared so many memories. I swiped at the angry tears flowing down my face. Had he ever had sex with _her_ in our bed?

I wanted to hate her, but she'd never made any promises to me. Joe was the one who'd pretended to love me and made me believe he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He'd broken the promise he'd made to me in Cuba and I could never forgive him for that. I sniffed and straightened my spine before going into the bathroom to gather the rest of my things. With my bag stuffed full, I went downstairs to wait. Thirty minutes later, Joe walked in carrying his own duffle, jam packed with what looked like everything he'd had at Terry's house, including Bob's dog bed.

Interesting.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw me sitting on his couch. Bob wasn't paying attention to traffic signals and ran into the back of his legs. I carefully studied Joe, scrutinizing him for signs of shame or remorse for what he'd done, but there were none. He even had the audacity to smile like he was glad to see me. My face heated with anger when I realized he'd given that same smile to Terry as he slid inside her.

"Hey, Cupcake. I didn't see your Jeep outside."

"Hector dropped me off," I said as Bob rushed over, climbing up onto the couch beside me and turning his belly up in invitation. A wave of sadness engulfed me when I realized this might be the last time I'd see his goofy expression.

While I was occupied with Bob, Joe went into the kitchen and took the opportunity to get rid of the evidence, so to speak. He opened the basement door and tossed his bag down the stairs towards the laundry area. After he put Bob's dog bed back in the corner of the kitchen, he opened the freezer and raised his voice loud enough for me to hear him in the living room. "I was going to stop and get a pizza on my way over to your apartment, but now that you're here, we can heat up one of my mother's casseroles if you want."

I pulled my shoulders back, pretending I was stronger than I felt, and joined him in the kitchen to end this once and for all. I stood in front of the sink, hip leaning against the edge of the counter. "Joe, are you sure you want to marry me?"

"Where did that come from?" He closed the freezer door, frowning. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Rather than answer him, I wiggled my fingers in his face so he could see the ring I'd just put on. "This means that we're engaged right… that we're committed to each other and to a future?"

"Yeah," he said uneasily, but with a trace of relief that I was wearing the ring.

"Did you close your case?" I asked, casually changing the subject.

His brows furrowed, instinctively knowing something was going on. Instead of asking point blank, he pulled the aluminum foil off the casserole dish and turned on the oven. "You need to eat something. How does Grandma Bella's baked spaghetti sound?" I had to give him credit for the way he changed the subject; that was smooth. It showed his concern for my health and redirected my attention to my stomach, which he knows is my weakness. Too bad for him, I already knew about his non-existent case, so I didn't need to press for details. He went ahead and put the casserole in the oven without waiting for my response. I didn't like Grandma Bella's spaghetti, but it didn't matter because I wouldn't be staying for dinner.

"How's your co-worker?"

"My what?" He frowned as he balled up the piece of aluminum foil that had covered the spaghetti and threw it in the garbage. "Oh, right. He'll be okay. Just needs some bed rest."

"That's good, Joe." It made my heart happy imagining Terry laid up in bed for a few days, but it wasn't fair that Joe seemed to be faring better than she had.

Bob was staring at the long strand of mozzarella cheese, dangling from Joe's hand. It must have come from the aluminum foil. Bob wasn't going to be able to resist the temptation. In his quest to lick every bit of flavor off Joe's hand, the side of his head barely brushed against Joe's crotch. Joe hissed in pain and spun around, facing away from me as he leaned on the fridge for support, breathing carefully through his nose. I couldn't have hidden my smile if I'd wanted to.

I quickly quelled my joy and put my hand on his back, asking with the appropriate amount of concern, "Are you okay?" He grunted but didn't answer. "You didn't get shot, did you?"

"No." He managed to choke out.

"Oh, shit. Did you get stabbed? Turn around and let me see." I started tugging at his shirt.

He realized I was seconds away from having him pull his pants down and checking him over. I had to admit, it was fun watching him squirm. He side stepped me. "I did not get stabbed," he said. "I'm fine. Bob just hit 'the boys' a little too hard. That's all." I knew he was lying. Bob had barely brushed against him, but I'd let it go. I'd gotten my pound of flesh even though he didn't know it. Still moving slowly, he opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. "What have you been up to this weekend?"

"Just a little house cleaning." I shrugged as if it was no big deal that I'd spent the last 24 hours erasing all traces of him from my home.

He was still a little hunched over in pain, but he managed to twist the caps off the bottles and hand one to me. "You should be taking it easy."

Ignoring his attempt at concern, I said, "I heard an interesting rumor today."

After making sure Bob was lying down on his dog bed and couldn't cause him more damage, he leaned back against the counter and crossed his legs at the ankle. "Oh, yeah? I guess Mary Lou caught you up on all the Burg gossip."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Word is you've been spotted with Terry Gilman." He maintained steady eye contact. He was good. I had to give him credit for that. But I was just getting started. My questions were designed to test him… to see how long he would drag his lies out.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable for him. Finally, he sighed in a way that told me he was tired of having to justify his actions and hurt that I didn't trust him. "Cupcake, you know I have to work with her sometimes. We've talked about this before."

So, this was how he was going to play it? He was going to make me out to be an irrational girlfriend who was jealous of another woman, while he portrayed himself as a good man trying to do his job; everything was all innocent and businesslike between them. I cocked my head to the side, pinning him with my gaze. "Exactly, what kind of work do you do with her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He tried to appear unaffected by taking a long pull of beer. And then he fell back on the old standby. "You know I can't talk about my work." He straightened and stepped closer, bending down to kiss me.

I recognized it for what it was… a distraction. I waited until his mouth—the same mouth that had been covered in Terry's juices yesterday—was almost on me before I spoke. My voice was low and controlled, not filled with rage or jealousy. "Did you fuck her after I said yes to your marriage proposal?"

"What?" He reared back as if I'd slapped him. "Why would you say a thing like that?"

"Answer the question, Joe." I had never been this calm or straightforward and it was causing him confusion.

His features hardened as his cop face slid into place. "Calm down, Cupcake. Mary Lou's just trying to cause trouble."

I wanted to roll my eyes at the condescending way he told me to calm down. Considering what I witnessed yesterday, I was as calm as a cucumber. "I didn't get my information from Mary Lou." I looked the traitorous asshole in the eye while trying not to bristle at having my best friends character attacked. "It's a simple question, Joe. Did you fuck Terry after I said yes to your marriage proposal?"

He waved his hands in the air, frustrated that I wasn't backing off. "You know I haven't been with her in years."

"I saw you." I dropped that bomb and waited for it to explode.

His eyes narrowed, assessing how much I knew and then he cautiously asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday at her house in Philly," I said and watched his eyes widen a fraction. I was curious how deep he was going to dig his hole before he realized it was pointless. "I was across the street, watching while you called me from her front porch. When I told you I'd marry you, I thought you'd make the right decision and come home to me." Bob sensed something was wrong and came to me, whining as he leaned against my thigh. I reached down, absently rubbing the top of his head. "We could have salvaged our relationship—then—but you didn't come home. Did you?"

His stony face was getting redder by the second. "You were testing me?" he almost yelled.

I nodded and rolled my eyes sarcastically. "Yeah, Joe. I set up your little love nest and forced you to have sex with another woman and then lie to me about it. You were just an innocent victim in this scenario." I shook my head, disgusted with him.

"Fine," he said, angry that he'd been caught. "I was with her, but it wasn't what you think."

"Oh, that's good to hear." I ran the back of my hand across my forehead and exhaled deeply in exaggerated relief. "Because what I think is, after I said yes to your proposal, you went back inside and fucked her."

"Nothing happened with her," he said as his nostrils flared. "It's not my choice to work with her. She's an informant for the department; I have no control over my assignments."

"Your assignment?" I asked, dumbfounded. "How stupid do you think I am, Joe?"

He had the good sense not to answer that one.

"Just how much does the city of Trenton pay you to sleep with informants?" I tilted my head to the side, feeling bitchier than usual. "You probably make more than the average prostitute, right? Surely your assets bring in more than Lula ever did." I shrugged and looked him up and down, judging him like a bull at an auction. "I mean, you're the Italian Stallion of the Burg, right? This right here is prime man meat." I gestured to his physique.

The muscles in his jaw clenched and loosened a few times and I thought steam was going to start coming out of his ears any minute.

"Cat got your tongue?" I looked him square in the eyes. "Maybe my questions are too hard. How about this one? Where were you when Hector called to tell you I was missing?" I waited for him to answer, and when he didn't, I continued. "I'd be willing to bet it was the same place you disappeared to the week before I escaped from the cellar."

He looked down, unable to meet my eyes. "You have to understand," he said. "We didn't have a single lead. We were spinning in circles." Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders, shaking me a little. "You were just gone without a trace… I was afraid."

"_You_ were afraid?" I asked incredulously. "What about me? While you were safely tucked away in your love nest with Terry Gilman, I was being terrorized by a madman who almost beat me to death." Tears welled in my eyes, and my throat tightened. "I was the one afraid," I screamed and poked my chest with my finger. "I cried for you to come save me, but—" I closed my eyes, unable to meet his eyes. "But how could you save me when you were too busy fucking another woman." The last part was broken off on an angry sob.

"Please don't cry." He reached out to hold me, but I stepped back, leaving his hands hanging in the air. "I'm sorry, Steph. I messed up. I told her it was over and cleared out all my stuff."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I looked at him in disbelief. "I agree to marry you, but your dick needs one last goodbye kiss from your other girlfriend?"

He was shaking his head, denying what I'd just accused him of. But there was no point in arguing. I was done here. I turned to go, but he was too fast. He held me by the shoulders and begged. "You're not even going to let me try to fix this? I made one little mistake, Stephanie. You can't throw away years together because I lost focus for a minute. Give me another chance."

I shook my head, sadly. "You broke your promise, Joe. In Cuba you promised you wouldn't touch another woman as long as we were committed. I think being engaged qualifies as a pretty serious commitment, don't you?"

He rubbed his jaw, debating his next tactical move. "Are you going to stand there and pretend you haven't been doing the same thing with Ranger?" He quirked an eyebrow, looking at me with judgment. "Let's not forget Hawaii and that cozy little scene I walked in on."

"That's true." I conceded. We'd been off and on so many times, who can say what kind of commitment we had at any given time. "But the difference is we weren't engaged to be married. And I didn't have your ring on my finger."

I saw the hope slip from his face as he realized he'd lost whatever leverage he'd had. "Are you going to run to _him_ now?" He sneered. "He'll fuck you, but he won't stay with you. He's out for number one. And that ain't you, sweetheart. Hell, he didn't even stick around for his own kid."

I couldn't argue with any of that. Ranger had made my place in his life perfectly clear. He wanted me in his bed—occasionally—and when he got tired of me, he'd walk away. While I was absorbing part one of Joe's punch to my heart, he followed up with his second jab.

"Haven't you heard?" His eyes lit up, practically gloating, but his question wasn't really a question, it was more of a taunt. I'd forgotten what a bully he could be. "Ranger's girl Friday is back in town. She's probably warming his bed right now." My face must have registered confusion because he smiled in that way people do when they fake feeling sorry for you. "Oh, you didn't know?" He cocked his eyebrow and finished up with the kill shot. "While you were missing, Jeanne Ellen Burrow's made herself comfortable at Rangeman. She even offered her services to help find you. From the look of it, Ranger was pretty grateful." He tilted his head to the side. "Wonder what form of payment she required?"

If he'd stabbed me, it couldn't have hurt more. I took a deep breath and did my best to push the pain away. Ranger was free to do what he wanted. I had no claims on him. But there was something else that struck me as curious about Joe's rant. I don't know why I didn't see it before. He was jealous. It was right there in his eyes. "Did you hit on her?" I scanned him up and down with a new understanding. "You did, didn't you? You hit on her and she turned you down." I leaned over, holding my sore ribs while I laughed. "That's priceless."

Being laughed at wasn't the reaction he'd wanted, so he decided to get even meaner. "Ranger's bed's probably full of beautiful women, but I'm sure one of his men wouldn't mind entertaining you while you wait your turn." He shrugged. "Being Ranger's whore won't be so bad, Cupcake."

I felt my face heat. His words hit their target, but I wasn't going to let him know that. I'd been raised around mean girls. If he was going to do damage, he'd have to try harder. "You have the nerve to judge anyone for being a whore?" I was full of indignation. "I've listened to your Grandmother call me that for years, but you are the biggest whore I've ever known, and I'm including Joyce Barnhardt in that group." I held my hand out with my thumb and forefinger separated. "I came this close to forgoing a condom with you in Cuba." I laughed at my foolishness. "You have no idea how glad I am that I listened to that little voice reminding me where your dick has been."

His nostrils flared. "You know I'm clean."

"Right," I said. "As clean as any dumpster can be." I rolled my eyes and shook my head back and forth in despair. "Do you know what it's like to wonder if the girl ringing up your Tastykakes has fucked your boyfriend?"

"Don't be crude, Stephanie. I'm not a monk and never claimed to be."

"You want crude? How about this?" I asked, my voice getting higher. "Fuck 'em and leave 'em, that was your motto wasn't it? You take what you want and never give a second thought to the damage you leave behind. When you fucked me at the bakery, you didn't use a condom. You didn't even hang around to see if your lack of protection complicated my life."

"What are you saying?" His eyes narrowed.

I laughed even though nothing was funny. "Now you're worried? It's about fifteen years too late, don't you think?"

His voice took on a hard edge. "Answer the question, Stephanie."

"You think I had your love child?" I laughed. "Get real, Morelli. That secret would have been too juicy to keep quiet. "Stephanie Plum… " I mocked as if I was the voices of the busy body's in the Burg, "she got knocked up by that 'No good Morelli boy.'"

"Then, I don't get why you're bringing up ancient history."

"Its ancient history for you because you had no consequences—like always. I, on the other hand, was grounded that summer as well as the summer you convinced me to play train in your garage. I remember being a little girl, crying at the front door while you continued playing with the kids in the neighborhood." I hadn't meant to get into all this with him, but I couldn't stop the bottled-up feelings from spewing out. I was getting a little hysterical as I got in his face.

"Morelli takes what he wants, when he wants it, and then he goes around town writing about his conquests on bathroom walls so the whole neighborhood knows. You have no idea what your bragging cost me." I screamed. "No fucking idea."

Humiliation washed over me, and I closed my eyes. I was back in that locker room, hands touching me, bruising me, and the hard wood of the bench biting into my ribs—my hips. I shuddered. Those memories had been locked away so deep I almost convinced myself they'd happened to someone else. But I can still hear the words Mason Treadwell whispered in my ear before he… _"Joe Morelli took what was mine and now I'm taking what's his. Ask 'Loverboy' if he can tell the difference when I'm done with you." _

"What did I cost you, Stephanie?" Joe gently asked.

I blinked, and the past disappeared. I shook my head. "Doesn't matter," I muttered, running out of steam. "We never should have gotten together. We should have let the past stay in the past."

"You can't still be blaming me." He sighed. "I was just a kid."

I took a deep breath, feeling empty. Defeated. "So was I, Joe." I backed away and placed the engagement ring and his house key on the table. He followed on my heels as I made my way to the living room.

"Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed my arm.

"You and I are done." I shook his hand off and walked to the other side of the couch where my bag and the box of his things were sitting. I picked up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and pointed down at the box. "That's all your stuff from my apartment."

Joe reached for me again, but I quickly turned, heading for the door as Bob circled my legs. Before I pulled the door open, I kneeled to give Bob a final hug. "I'm going to miss you, boy," I whispered in his ear. When I stood up, I gave Joe one final look. "I'll keep our personal business private, and I expect the same from you. If you spread lies about me or paint me to be the bad guy, I'll ruin you." Joe didn't know Hector had recorded his and Terry's interlude. I didn't want to do it, but if he forced me, I would make it public. "Don't contact me. Don't even glance in my direction on the street. I don't exist to you anymore." I pushed the door open and stepped onto the porch.

"Don't do this Stephanie," Joe yelled as I walked down his driveway and got in Hector's waiting car, never once looking back.


	50. Chapter 50

**CHAPTER 50**

**Finding My Feet**

After breaking things off with Joe, Hector dropped me off at my apartment. He wanted to stay but I convinced him I needed some space. He didn't like it, but he understood. Ranger on the other hand had been harder to convince. Even though I was afraid to be alone in my apartment, I knew it was something I needed to conquer.

Before bed that night, I took a long hot bath to help myself relax. After I put on my nightshirt, I went through the apartment, checking to make sure the alarm was activated and both bolts were in place on the door. I also confirmed that all the windows were locked and made sure the bars were still firmly secured. But nothing I did made the general sense of unease go away.

I poured myself a glass of milk and fed Rex a baby carrot. While he ate, I leaned my elbows on the counter, contemplating the contents of the brown bear cookie jar beside his cage. "I know what you're thinking," I told Rex, "you're thinking that every time I take my gun out, someone gets shot." That's the real reason I hated my gun and why I resisted carrying it. Ranger scolded me all the time about leaving it in the cookie jar, but I just couldn't handle being the cause of one more person dying. Yet, I didn't want to be the one who ended up dead either. Even though my fears were valid, my brain was telling me I needed to use everything at my disposal to stay safe. The world was a dangerous place… mine more so than most.

To keep my hands from reaching inside the jar, I rubbed the top of Rex's head. "I know I'm supposed to be the adult here, but I have to tell you something. I'm scared." He looked up at me and then touched his nose to the tip of my finger. "You are the best guard hamster in the world, but you're a heavy sleeper. What if someone sneaks inside? Wouldn't it make you feel better tonight knowing I was armed?" Rex made a squeaking sound and twitched his whiskers. I took that for his agreement.

I slid the lid off the cookie jar and saw that my gun was resting against a new box of ammunition, but what puzzled me was the object lying beside it. "Where did this come from?" I asked Rex as I took the pearl handled stiletto out and examined it. I slid the safety off with my thumb and then pressed the button. The blade sprang out as quickly as a strike of lightning. It was dangerously sharp and looked to be nine inches long. A piece of paper was lying at the bottom of the jar written in Hector's handwriting. The note read, "Ranger cleaned and loaded your gun, but the knife is from me. When you are ready, I will teach you how to use it."

Hector could have given the knife to me personally and pressured me to learn how to use it, but he was leaving it up to me to make the decision on my own. The truth is that I've been wanting to learn the proper way to fight with a knife since Razzle Dazzle attacked me in the parking garage of the FBI, and everything that's happened in the last two months has only served to reinforce my desire. But I wasn't going to stop at that. I was also going to ask him to teach me how to pick locks and anything else he was willing to share.

I folded the blade back into the handle and pulled out my gun, checking to see if Ranger had indeed loaded it. It came as no surprise to find the clip was full. I put the lid back on the cookie jar and told Rex, "It'll be okay. I'm just going to keep these by the bed in case I need them tonight. Sleep tight, buddy." I left the kitchen light on and took the knife and gun with me into the bedroom. Between the light from the kitchen and the light spilling in from the bathroom, the shadows in the bedroom weren't as bad.

I put the gun on the nightstand and the knife under my pillow. Both were within easy reach. I got into bed and turned onto my side. Before Durant entered my life, I usually fell asleep within seconds. But that wasn't happening tonight. I kept hearing strange noises. Rationally, I knew they didn't have anything to do with an intruder wandering around my apartment, but I couldn't get my mind to settle down. I was jumping at each and every sound. Every time I closed my eyes, memories of the cellar or of Joe and Terry writhing against each other floated unbidden through my mind. After tossing and turning for what seemed like forever, I finally gave up and did the last thing anyone expected.

I dressed warmly and laced up my tennis shoes before strapping on the thigh holster that Hector had gotten me for Christmas. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand, fitting it into the holster and for extra measure slipped the stiletto between my boobs. Safety was now my middle name.

Even though it was eleven at night, thanks to the streetlights and the full moon, I was able to see clearly enough to know where I was going. I gave Cal and Lester a wave as I passed by their black SUV in my parking lot. They immediately got out and began jogging after me but kept their distance. Instead of being angry at having babysitters, I was kind of relieved to know I wouldn't be out here all alone.

I took off in the direction of my old high school. The sound of my feet hitting the pavement in the frigid midnight air made me feel free. For the first time in two months, I wasn't afraid. I made a few rounds on the track, but my mind hadn't quieted. The images were still tormenting me. I needed to force my brain to turn off. I left the football field and made my way down the street to the park, Lester and Cal still following. I needed something more challenging and the dirt trail around the small lake might provide that.

I pushed myself hard, managing to dodge rocks and fallen limbs which provided a good distraction for all the ugly thoughts that plagued me. On my second time around the lake, I started to run out of steam. While I walked the rest of the way, I began thinking about what my next step was going to be. Getting back to work was essential. I was healing more every day and could handle some of my lighter cases—even with my broken hand. Plus, the longer I acted like a victim, the weaker I would become. I needed to grab the bull by the horns and get back out there. With my decision made, I was feeling energized. Pumped.

Now that I'd decided to go back to work, I realized how unprepared I was to continue doing that job. But I had bills to pay and I liked the flexibility that being a bounty hunter offered. What I needed was to get better training. I was already making strides with my fitness by running, but there was more I could do. Along with asking Hector to teach me knife fighting and lock picking skills, I needed to follow through on the rest of the promises I made to myself while I was in the cellar. Now that I'd made it out alive, I was going to keep my vow to learn self-defense and I was going to make target practice a priority. Having firm goals helped me to feel better.

I made my way back to my apartment building. Les and Cal followed me to my door and made sure I was safely inside before saying goodnight. After setting the alarm and both bolts, I took a quick shower and fell into bed. My eyes closed and when I woke up it was morning.

It was still early, but I got up anyway, and dressed in jeans and a hoodie, adding my Glock 19 to the holster at my hip—and tucking my new stiletto into my boot. Instead of Ranger with two guns and a knife, I was Stephanie Plum, woman bounty hunter with _one _gun and a knife. The love/hate relationship I'd had with my gun was now in the past. I was going to learn to feel comfortable carrying it. Never again would I feel helpless—not if I could help it.

When I walked into the bond's office, Connie gasped, and Lula looked at me bug-eyed and open mouthed. I hadn't told anyone I was coming in today, but that wasn't why they were shocked speechless. For the first time, I'd come to work locked and loaded, prepared to be an actual bounty hunter. Lula launched herself off the couch and gave me an entire body hug. "You're back!" She drew away, surveying me from top to bottom. "Things round here have been boring without your ass."

The commotion brought Vinnie out of his office. He gave me a once over. "Don't expect special treatment!" he said and then threw his hand in Lula's direction. "Get back to work!" He went back in his office, slamming the door behind him.

Things were back to normal.

"Are you coming back to work?" Connie asked.

"Yup. Got anything for me?"

"Here you go." She handed me a stack of folders. "You can have the cases Rangeman wouldn't take."

I flipped through the files, nodding when I realized I wouldn't have any trouble bringing these in. I signed the paperwork, gathered the folders, and turned to Lula. "You ready?"

"Since your hands broken, I'll drive," she said as we left the bond's office and made our way to her Firebird parked at the curb. She pulled a flyer out from under her windshield wiper and read it. "It's a coupon for a free month trial to that new all women gym that opened up on the next block." She handed the flier to me as she narrowed her eyes and frowned. "You think they were targeting me cause I'm full figured?"

I ignored Lula and read the flyer for myself. _Kick It_ was printed across the top along with the many classes it offered. This might be the solution that I'd been looking for. "It says here they have self-defense classes. We might not get as much garbage thrown at us if we had a little training," I said.

"You might have a point, there. This job has destroyed some of my best outfits."

Was I really standing on the street debating whether to join a gym? What was this world coming to? I walked over to my Jeep and grabbed my own flyer from underneath my wipers, slipping it into my purse to think about later.

Elroy was first up on my list of skips to bring in. This wasn't the first time I'd had to return him to the system. Since his wife died, he'd become a regular troublemaker. This time he'd been arrested for throwing an empty bottle at a parked police car. I was pretty sure we'd find him at home sleeping off a bottle of hooch. Considering he was in his eighties, in both age and weight, I didn't think he'd be a problem.

I directed Lula to Elroy's small row house in the center of the Burg. We parked behind his light green 80's model Chrysler, blocking him in. I knocked on the front door before calling out. "Elroy? It's Stephanie Plum. You missed your court date. I'm here to give you a ride to reschedule." There was no answer. I turned the knob and the door opened. As expected, he was face down on the couch, with an empty bottle of cheap bourbon on the floor. "Help me get him in the car," I asked Lula.

"Me?" Lula said in a high soprano voice. "I'm not touching him. He smells like moth balls and month-old bologna." She scrunched her face up, thinking hard. "Why do old people always smell like mothballs?" That was a good question… and one I didn't have the answer to.

"Elroy?" I yelled, trying to rouse him. "Time to wake up."

"Wha… ," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"It's time to go." I helped him get his shoes on and we stumbled out the door. Going to the station was going to be tricky. I didn't want to run into Morelli. Officially, we'd only been broken up for one day and no one knew about it except for Hector and Mary Lou. Grudgingly, Lula pulled up to the station door and I helped Elroy out of the backseat. I propped him against the car while I leaned back inside. "Don't leave me stranded," I warned her.

She nodded earnestly and pointed at the pavement. "I'll be waiting right here in this very spot." I hoped she meant it because things between Ranger and me were awkward after our argument/disagreement Saturday morning and I didn't feel like asking him for a ride and I didn't want to get stuck here at the station where Morelli could corner me either.

Elroy was able to shuffle into the station with minimal assistance from me. He knew the drill. He plopped himself down on the bench and waited while I signed in with the desk Sergeant. Lucky for me, it was a new guy I hadn't met before, so I wasn't subjected to awkward questions about the cellar or Durant. Within five minutes, Elroy was processed, and I was on my way with the body receipt.

Eddie caught up with me in the parking lot. "Hey kid." He slung his arm around me, matching my stride. "How you doing?" He pulled me to a stop several feet away from Lula's Firebird. She hadn't spotted us yet. She had her sound system turned up and the car was bouncing as she danced in her seat.

"I'm good." I paused to swallow; my throat feeling like something was stuck in it. Eddie's eyes were filled with regret and something akin to pity. "Thanks for looking for me while I was… you know."

"Anytime, Steph." He gave me a warm smile and changed the subject. "You wouldn't happen to know what's up with Morelli, would you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"He's been coming down hard on the rookie's today. They're about to piss their pants."

Sometimes Eddie let things slip to his wife, my cousin Shirley the whiner. Telling him that Joe and I broke up was a risk I couldn't take, but I could do him one better. "Did you place a bet on when Joe and I would get married?"

"I plead the fifth." He smiled without remorse.

I snorted. "How much is the pool worth?"

"It's up to fifteen grand." He nodded his head like I should be proud of that accomplishment. "Everyone thinks you'll be hitched by summer."

"What happens if we never marry?"

"Uh." His eyes bugged out and his mouth hung open. "Only two people picked that option."

I stifled a satisfied laugh because if I wasn't mistaken, I knew he was one of them. "You and who else?"

"Sorry, Steph." He studied the ground. "It's me and Robin Russell."

I nodded, pleased that she was going to profit as well as Eddie. If it had to be anyone, I'd rather it was the two of them. "I'm going to pay you back for all your help over the years. If you double down on your bet, you just might end up with enough money to take your family to Hawaii." I left him with his mouth hanging open and got in the Firebird.

"Let's hit the Tasty Pastry," I told Lula, "and then I want to check out the new gym."

"I'm down for the bakery," she gunned it out of the parking lot, "but I ain't so sure about that gym. I spent a lot of years perfecting this body."

* * *

The all-women gym was housed in an old warehouse on the corner of Fairmount and Hamilton, just a block away from the bond's office. We pulled into the parking lot and stared at the brick building, neither of us making an attempt to get out of the car. "It doesn't look inviting," Lula said.

She was right. The brick was chipped and had some graffiti at the corner. There were no windows along the front façade and the entrance was a black metal door advertising the gym's name, _Kick It_. "Come on." I grabbed my messenger bag and our flyers and got out of the car. To the right of the metal door, there was a small camera with a discreet sign advertising Elite Security. I pressed the buzzer and smiled into the camera. A second later the door opened, revealing a perky young woman with long red hair.

"Hi, I'm Rhonda. Welcome to _Kick It_." She held her arm out, inviting us to come inside. She made sure the door was closed behind us and said, "Are you looking for a fitness facility?"

"What's with all the security?" Lula asked as her head swiveled in all directions. "Do you have famous people working out here or something?"

Rhonda smiled politely. "We take the privacy and security of our members very seriously. You may exit anytime, but no one gets inside without someone personally opening the door. Right now, that's my job. That, and signing everyone in and out. You can be assured that you will be perfectly safe while you're within these four walls."

Her explanation was encouraging to the newly safety-conscious Stephanie and I was sure that Elite Security would do a good job. They were new to the area and were proving to be tough competition for Rangeman. According to some of the guys, Ranger was having a difficult time keeping contracts and securing new ones. I wanted to be supportive of him, but in this case, I was glad that Rangeman didn't hold the security account for _Kick It_. I didn't want him or his men knowing that I was getting training.

"I'm Stephanie and this is Lula," I said as I handed her our coupons. "These were on our windshields, so we thought we'd come check it out."

"That's wonderful." She took the coupons. "Let me show you around." We followed Rhonda out of the registration area and into the actual gym. I was pleasantly surprised to find a clean, up to date facility, decked out in top-of-the-line equipment that was both impressive and frightening. The external walls were exposed brick and the internal walls were painted in variations of teal. A juice bar was in the center of the gym with individual classrooms lining the right side while the left side of the building was filled with various types of machines and the locker room stretched across the back wall. The only thing missing was an indoor pool.

As we walked, Rhonda described the gym's offerings and how much it would cost after the free trial was over. Lula and I were in awe as we watched spandex clad women slip effortlessly from one machine to the next while others took part in classes that looked beyond my capabilities.

"We should sign up for this one," Lula said as we watched several women kicking and jabbing at bags.

Rhonda checked her roster. "There's no openings in this kickboxing class, but we have three openings in the one that meets Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 4 pm."

"Go ahead and put us down," Lula said without checking with me. "Stephanie and me are real good bounty hunters, but I'm always telling her you can never have too much training." Lula nodded her head as she imparted the sage advice that she'd never in her life uttered to me.

"Do you have any self-defense classes?" I asked as we took a seat at the small table in the juice bar.

Rhonda checked her roster again. "There are three slots available in a beginning Krav Maga class that's just starting. It meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 4 pm. The owner, Denise, is teaching it. She's a former MMA fighter." (Mixed Martial Arts.)

"That's impressive." I said. "But what exactly is Krav Maga?"

"It mixes several disciplines of martial arts with down and dirty street fighting. Since you're a bounty hunter, you would definitely benefit from this."

I thought she was onto something. My FTA's were anything but predictable. "Sign me up," I told her then glanced at Lula. "What about you?"

"I guess I could give it a try," she said, grudgingly.

I thought of Mary Lou and Valerie. "Do you have any more coupons? I have a couple friends that might be interested."

"Sure." She handed me several flyers and then waved to a strikingly beautiful woman standing by the counter. As the woman approached, I noticed her lean muscles flexing underneath her dark skin. "Stephanie and Lula, this is Denise. She's the owner." Rhonda turned her attention to Denise. "They're bounty hunters interested in self-defense training."

"It's nice to meet you both." Denise shook Lula's hand and then slightly narrowed her eyes when she reached for mine. "You're the Bombshell Bounty Hunter?"

I hated that name, but I nodded in the affirmative. "I'm hoping after taking your Krav Maga class, I'll have an easier time bringing in fugitives."

Denise slid the elastic out of her shoulder length dark hair and smoothed the flyaway's from her face before pulling it back into a ponytail again. While she repaired her hair, she studied me. "Learning the discipline will help, but it won't be easy."

I tried not to be insulted. The circumstances I usually found myself in were widely publicized and mostly not my fault. "I'm not looking for easy. Just a way to protect myself."

"I read about what happened to you." She gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry." When I waved her sympathy off without commenting, she turned to Rhonda. "Have you given them a tour of the locker room facilities?"

"We were just about to head that way." Rhonda took a step toward the back of the gym. I had no intention of ever setting foot in that locker room or any other one—ever—so I declined. By the time Lula and I made it back to the Firebird, I was enrolled in kickboxing, yoga, and Krav Maga classes, and working out with a personal trainer two times a week. I was going to be spending a lot of time at the gym which I was fine with because the thought of being alone in my apartment didn't sound appealing.

Lula and I were heading back to the bond's office when my phone rang. "Ms. Plum, this is Special Agent Kinkade, could you meet with me Wednesday afternoon at the Newark field office?"

A heavy weight settled on my chest. "I thought the case was closed."

My voice must have conveyed my alarm because she rushed to reassure me. "It is closed. I didn't mean to make it sound like there was a problem, but I do have some information you might find interesting." When I didn't respond right away, she added. "Agent Hobbs won't be here."

I wasn't scared of Barry, but I didn't want to run into him either. "I can be there around one."

"Great, I'll see you then." Her voice sounded relieved; as if she'd been worried I'd refuse.

Lula looked over to me, expectantly. "Are you in trouble?" she asked as she parked at the curb outside the bond's office.

"No. Agent Kinkade just wants to talk to me one last time."

"You should take Ranger," she said. "I'd go with you, but the feds make my stomach cramp up real bad. It's worse than the runs I get at the cop shop."

"Ranger's got his own work to do," I said as I got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk.

She stepped up beside me but stopped before opening the door to the Bond's office. "Maybe you should call that lawyer?"

"It's just routine. No big deal."

Lula shook her head, mumbling something under her breath, and walked inside while I got in my car and called Hector to meet me at Sunny's gun range. I could have used Ranger's gun range, but I was trying to maintain some space—for both our sakes. Hector had been thrilled when I asked for his help in getting more comfortable with my gun. He even offered to teach me how to defend myself with a knife and how to pick any lock on the market. All my plans were coming together.

I watched Hector through the clear bulletproof glass as he shot several rounds into the paper target. He was calm and focused. I wasn't even sure he was breathing. Two of his shots went in the head, one inch apart, two in the heart, the same distance apart, and the rest went in the bullseye. He was showing off, but I didn't mind.

When it was my turn, he nodded to me in the lane beside him. I took up a position similar to how he'd been standing, being careful to compensate for my left hand. I shot my clip in the same pattern: two to the head, two to the heart, and the rest in the bullseye. After finishing the clip, I took off the safety glasses and pushed the button to bring my paper target forward. My shots weren't as precise as Hector's had been, but I thought I did pretty good. Much better than the times when Ranger had taken me to the range. It must have something to do with my libido. Having Ranger sharing the same space with me is enough to distract any woman.

Hector came around to stand behind me. "You did well," he said. "It is no wonder you were awarded the Robin Hood sharp-shooter award. You are a natural."

I gave him a puzzled look. How did he know about that? We hadn't even met when I shot Jimmy Alpha in the heart five times, all within an inch of each other. He smiled mysteriously and gave me a couple tips to relax my stance before going back to his lane. When each of us finished our box of ammunition, we called it quits. I left the gun range feeling more comfortable with my gun than I ever had.

Hector came to a stop in the parking lot next to my Jeep. "Mama has been asking about you. Will you have dinner with us tonight?"

I quickly nodded. The last time I saw his mama was on Christmas Eve. So many things had happened since then. "I should have gone to see her already," I said as I looked down at the pavement, a tremor of shame washing over me.

"She understands."

Since I loved riding in his pride and joy, 1970 El Camino, I said, "Follow me back to my apartment and I'll ride with you." As I drove home, I thought back to the first time Hector introduced me to his mama. It was a few months ago, before Thanksgiving. She welcomed me into her home as if I were her long-lost daughter. "It's nice to meet you Mrs. Sanchez," I greeted her formally.

She kissed me on both of my cheeks and smiled. "None of those stuffy formalities. You are family. Call me Mama," she insisted.

I could tell right away she wasn't to be argued with. "Okay, Mama," I conceded. She was a small woman with black hair threaded with strands of silver. I knew she'd been young when she had Hector and his brother, so I placed her in her mid-fifties.

"Hector has told me all about his Angelita," she gushed as she pulled me into her kitchen and pushed me down into a chair at her table. "You come see me anytime. You do not have to wait for this one to bring you," she motioned toward Hector. While she had her back turned, Hector reached into a bowl and stole a tortilla. As if she had eyes in the back of her head, she grabbed Hector by the ear. "Put that back. You will ruin your dinner." I had just taken a drink of water and almost snorted it through my nose at the look of fear on his face.

I pulled into my parking lot and Hector pulled in beside me. I got out and jumped in his car, still smiling about the memory of him getting his ear pulled by his mama. "What has put that smile on your face," he asked me.

"I was just remembering the first time I met your Mama."

"She will be glad to see you. She has been asking about you every day."

I nodded but didn't say anything. Hector and his Mama are very close. While I was in the cellar, she would have been worried for me, but also for Hector. He carries a heavy weight on his shoulders for those that he loves. On one of my visits, Hector left the room and Mama told me about her son, Felipe, and her granddaughter, Marquita, who were gunned down in a drive-by shooting. She said she could barely sleep back in those days. It had been bad enough that Felipe was in the gang, but when Hector also joined, she almost lost her mind with worry. After their deaths, Hector went to a dark place and Mama feared she'd lost him as well. Then one day, after months of being gone, he came home to stay and there was no more talk of the gang. She'd given me a pointed look and we both understood that he had gotten justice for his family in the only way a man like Hector would accept. Since then, he'd moved them to a nicer neighborhood and gotten an honest job at Rangeman. Now that Hector was making good money, Mama didn't have to work, but she volunteered at an at risk youth center to give back to the community.

Her story broke my heart. I recalled how I reached out to wipe the tear making its way down her face. She put her hand on my wrist, pressing my hand against her cheek and said, "You are good for him, Estefanía."

I was pretty sure Mama had it wrong. Hector was the one who was good for me. I looked over at him. He was staring at the road as he drove toward his home and the only family member he had left. I reached over and put my hand on top of his on the gear shift. "So, what's for dinner?" I asked to get myself out of my depressing funk.

He graced me with a dazzling smile. "Mama is making your favorite, picadillo sencillo, tortillas, and arroz con leche." Which was basically Mexican beef stew, and rice pudding with raisins on top. He chuckled when my stomach growled loudly in the quiet car.

We pulled up in front of their house and Mama came out. After she fussed over me for several minutes, we went inside and ate. Now that my belly was full, we migrated to the living room with mugs of Champurrado (hot chocolate made with maize and cinnamon). "Turn on the show," Mama said to Hector. "I want to see what Victoria and Max have been up to today."

I looked at him in question and then remembered Triunfo del amor. He smiled and picked up the DVR remote. I soon learned that Mama liked to hold a commentary as she watched her telenovela. She yelled and called the characters idiots as if they could hear her. I was entertained and a little scared to hear the many plans of revenge she devised for the demise of her least favorite character, the conniving Victoria. I had no doubt where Hector learned to instill fear in everyone. But oddly enough, watching Hector argue with his Mama about the characters sent a peaceful joy through me. That is until they tried to enlist me to take one side against the other. I had to bite my lip and shake my head for fear of accidentally siding with one of them. I was not getting in the middle of that.

By the time we got back to my apartment, I was ready to practice my lock picking skills. He had a clear model of a dead bolt that could be split in half. I was able to see how the insides worked. It helped to know where I was supposed to stick the metal pick and where I was supposed to jiggle the tension wrench.

At ten o'clock, he got up and made his way to the door. He paused at the threshold. "I can stay," he said, looking at me with so much concern in his eyes.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay," I tried to reassure him, but even I didn't believe my lie.

He pulled me into a hug. "You will get through this. I will be here for you. Whatever you need."

That night, when I laid down on my bed, it was a repeat of the night before. Sleep eluded me. My brain swirled with horrible thoughts and images. More than once, I thought I glimpsed Durant in the shadows of my room. I was starting to doubt my sanity. Where there used to be light, there was only darkness now.

My mind kept coming back to this documentary I watched months ago. They were describing black holes and what it was like to cross the event horizon. Evidently, there is no light—no air—no anything. If you fall into one, it rips you apart and swallows the pieces. That was exactly how I felt. I was standing on the edge of the hole and teetering. Sometimes I got tired of keeping my balance and thought about letting go.


	51. Chapter 51

**CHAPTER 51**

**Do A Double Take**

Agent Kinkade led me into her office. "I'm glad you could make it," she said as she smiled and motioned for me to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"It's no problem," I muttered as I contemplated the chair with dismay. I'd taken my first Krav Maga class last night and Denise hadn't gone easy on me. I woke up this morning with my muscles screaming at me and barely able to get out of bed.

"Would you like something to drink?" she offered.

"I'm good, thanks." I had to stifle a whimper as I slowly lowered myself into the chair. As soon as my ass hit the cushion, I knew I was doomed. How in the hell was I going to get back up again?

Her eyes furrowed at my stiff movements. "Are you okay, Stephanie?"

I sighed as I tried to find a comfortable position. "I had my first Krav Maga class last night, so I'm moving a little slow."

"Sounds brutal." She laughed as she went around her desk and took her seat. "I remember feeling the same way after my first day at the academy. Let's just say, the young girl that got off the bus in front of the dorms at Quantico was just a baby compared to the woman that left."

"It was that bad?"

"I thought I was prepared for the five months of training, but I didn't have a clue. For the final test to graduate, we had to complete what's called the _Yellow Brick Road_. It almost killed me." She shuddered.

"What's the _Yellow Brick Road_?"

"It's something the Marine's came up with. That should give you a clue as to how grueling it is. But to answer your question, it's an obstacle course that's a little over six miles long and covers every difficult terrain you can imagine. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but receiving my gold shield made it all worth it, even if I did want to kill Finnegan Scott by the time it was all over."

"Finnegan Scott?"

Her eyes clouded as if she was imagining something awful and then she sighed. "He was one of the bureau's best field agents," she said and looked down at her desk for a minute. When she lifted her head, the sadness was gone, and respect was in its place. "His wife and daughter were killed by the serial killer he'd been tracking. After that he resigned from field duty and started teaching at the academy. He was hard on us, but I learned a lot from him."

"That's horrible."

"It was," she agreed. "Not long after I graduated, he left the bureau, and no one's seen him since." She shook off the cloud of melancholy that had descended in the office. "Enough about my time at Quantico, tell me about your Krav Maga class."

"It's nothing really. I just thought it was time for me to get professional training, so I joined a local gym. Denise, my instructor, isn't as bad as yours was, but right now she's not on my list of favorite people."

"It's always a good idea to learn the proper ways to defend yourself, but something that no one can teach you is internal strength, and you have that in spades. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but Agent Shaw was impressed with the way you handled yourself especially after everything you'd been through."

That was flattering coming from a respected man like Agent Shaw, but I hadn't come here to make small talk. "Agent Kinkade, why am I here?"

"Call me Piper," she said as she picked up a blue folder on her desk marked, case #47962. I clenched my fists knowing everything that happened to me and the other women could all be summed up in one thin file and reduced to a number. "You offered some very insightful theories about why Durant kidnapped you and the other women. I wanted to personally tell you that our behavioral analysts have concluded much the same as you did."

I sat up straighter. I'd spent hours in the cellar trying to get into Durant's head. I thought the key to getting out of there was to understand why he did the things he did. "I was just guessing," I told her.

"You have a good understanding of human behavior," she said. "The doctors believe Durant was suffering from antisocial personality disorder." The confused look on my face had her quickly adding, "The terms you are probably more familiar with are psychopath and sociopath. Based on the limited information we have, it's nearly impossible to determine which one he was. The trauma of his sister's death at such a young age, coupled with subsequent parental neglect may have been precipitators to developing this personality disorder or he simply could have been born that way. We'll never know."

I nodded. I'd already accepted that some questions were going to remain unanswered.

"Besides wanting to see how you were doing, I also need you to sign a couple things." She slid two sheets of paper across the desk. "These are routine documents. If you could take a moment to read through them and sign where indicated or you can have Mr. Fusco look them over if you wish."

I bit my lip, thinking about calling Cyrus, but I didn't want to bother him. His rate was probably five hundred dollars an hour and I didn't want Ranger shelling out any more money on my behalf. I read through everything and didn't see the harm in signing. "What's going to happen to the cellar now that the investigation is over?"

"Nothing, I guess. The true owners of the property are an elderly couple who inherited it years ago. They live in Florida now and have no plans to do anything with the property."

I couldn't believe it. That place was evil. It needed to be destroyed. While I tried to make sense of what she'd just told me, she handed me another piece of paper. I quickly signed it and handed it back. "It's just going to sit there waiting for someone else to come along?"

"I really don't know, Stephanie," she sighed as if there was nothing she could do. I put my hands on the arms of the chair to start hefting my stiff body up, but she continued. "Some of the family members of Durant's victims are having a hard time dealing with what happened to their loved ones and have expressed a desire to meet with you. They're hoping after speaking with you it will help them find closure."

My first instinct was to tell her no. I had no desire to talk about that time ever again. They would want details—things I didn't want to relive. But the guilt was already taking hold. I felt I owed it to the women to give their families as much peace as I could. I was the one who made it out of the cellar when they hadn't.

"Governor Allen is particularly eager to speak with you, but so are the other families. Well, everyone but Sharon Richardson's family. Unfortunately, Sharon's parents perished in a house fire when she was only seven. Her Grandmother, Odette Moffitt, raised her after their deaths and is her only living relative. A couple of years ago she suffered a stroke and had to be moved into an assisted living facility in Durham, North Carolina. She expressed a desire to speak with you but because of her health issues, she's unable to make the trip."

A fresh surge of anger hit me. Sharon had suffered so much loss and then to have her life end like that, at the hands of Durant, was impossibly unfair. I breathed out a sigh and gave Agent Kinkade a small nod. "When do they want to meet?"

She smiled as if she'd known all along I'd say yes. "I can reserve a private meeting room at the Princeton Hilton next Wednesday at 2pm?"

"That should be fine. At least it's closer to me than Newark."

I didn't immediately get up. Instead, I was hit with a wave of guilt that had been slowly eating away at me.

She studied my face and saw that I was conflicted. "What's troubling you, Stephanie?"

I examined the painting on her wall, unable to meet her eyes. "I don't know. I guess I just keep wondering why." I took a deep breath and faced her. "Why was I spared, and the other women weren't? I mean, I'm not doing anything important with my life. I'm just floating from one disaster to the next."

"What you're experiencing is called survivor's guilt. I've seen it many times. But to answer your question, I don't know why you made it out and they didn't. You're never going to know why. But you can take the gift you've been given and do something good with it." I know she was trying to help, but it did nothing to lessen my guilt. "By the way, I owe you a debt of gratitude." She smiled mysteriously, leaving the heavy subject behind.

"For what?"

"Thanks to you, Agent Hobbs is now working permanently from the Anchorage field office." Her smile lit up her entire face.

"Me? What'd I do?"

"Hobbs overplayed his hand. Agent Shaw had been looking for a reason to get rid of him and you gave it to him," she explained.

"Is working out of the Anchorage office that bad?"

"Not if you like cold, which I happen to know Barry does not." She chuckled. "My new favorite hobby is checking the forecast. They're having record lows. Last night it got down to negative 13 degrees Fahrenheit."

"It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself joining in until I remembered why I was here in the first place and sobered.

She shook her head knowingly and got to her feet. "I'll arrange the meeting and let you know." She rode the elevator back down with me, stopping when we reached the visitor's desk. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, but it was nice getting to know you, Stephanie. I do hope you keep in touch and if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

* * *

I made it back to Trenton in time for my first Yoga class. I carefully slid out of the Jeep and winced as I leaned back in to retrieve my bag. I hadn't even entered the building yet and I was already sweating. I couldn't imagine twisting my already sore body into those awkward poses. As it was, I could barely manage to sit down and get back up again.

I didn't need to wait for Lula. After last night's Krav Maga class, she decided she could defend herself just fine with her 44 Magnum long barrel and didn't need to take anymore classes. I can't say that I was surprised. Lula had a problem seeing things through.

The first thing I noticed as I entered the yoga studio was that everyone had brought a mat with them, except me.

_Damnit, nobody said anything about a mat._

The instructor pointed to a cubby lining the far wall. "If you don't have a mat, grab one and join us." I quickly spread my borrowed mat beside an older woman in the back row, thinking I wouldn't be too embarrassed by my abilities if I was compared to her. Unless a woman in her seventies was more limber than me. Then I'd slink home with my tail between my legs in shame.

"This is yoga for beginners. My name is Sukie. If everyone will be seated cross legged on your mat, we will begin."

When Sukie said to lift my spine, I lifted it, and when she said to balance my bones, I tried. I really did. I just wasn't sure I accomplished what she suggested. Maybe I should see if they offered a class before the one for beginners. Like maybe Yoga for kindergarteners or dummies or something basic like that.

"Close your eyes and inhale," she said and on the last exhale, class was finally dismissed. I rolled over onto my back and laid there for a few minutes, breathing as heavily as if I'd just run a marathon. I'd moved my body in ways I hadn't thought possible and I'd had some pretty intense encounters of both the sexual and the life and death kind.

"You'll get better." The older woman patted my shoulder, seemingly fine while I gasped for breath. "This is my second time taking this class. I should know." It was embarrassing, knowing that a woman my Grandma's age was in better condition than I was. But at least the poses had limbered me up and I was ready to head to my kickboxing class across the hall.

I wasn't sure how much I was going to be able to participate since my left hand was still in the process of healing, but I was determined to give it my best. I got one of my newly purchased gloves out of my bag and began putting it on my uninjured hand. "Grab a partner," a smoky voice announced from behind me. I turned around, hoping to find a partner quickly so I wasn't the pathetic person left all alone. My mouth fell open as our eyes connected from across the room. She was the last person I expected to see.

I closed my eyes, groaning at my luck. Jeanne Ellen Burrow's was my kickboxing instructor. Joe's gleeful warning came to mind, inciting images of Jeanne and Ranger naked and rolling around on his bed, limbs entangled together, their bodies flushed from their lusty activities. The pain in my chest was swift and consuming, colored with a red haze. I was woman enough to admit I was jealous.

My urge to flee was strong. The exit was right there. All I had to do was take a few steps and then I could breathe again, but my feet wouldn't move. I imagined the satisfied smile on her face as she watched me cowardly running away and I couldn't do it. By the time I tuned back in, everyone had paired up, leaving me with… her.

_Damn… Damn… Damn._

"Hi, Stephanie." She smiled. "I'm glad to see you in my class."

I squinted at her, trying to decide her angle, but she didn't waste any more time on pleasantries. She began by showing us the guard position. She arranged my hands, so they were protecting my head and my elbows were tucked close to my body. Drawing attention to me for the others to imitate, she said, "Now draw your body in and hunch over a little. You want to make yourself as small of a target as you can manage."

Next, she showed us the traditional boxer's stance. "Stand with your feet shoulder-distance apart and left one forward. You're going to be pivoting on your right foot while using your glutes to power your punches. Like this." She demonstrated and we all tried to mimic what she was doing. It took a few tries before I got the hang of it. "Keeping your elbows drawn in by your sides, bring your fists up to your cheeks, thumbs almost touching and punch with your right arm, straight from the shoulder." We watched her complete a couple jabs and copied her movements. "Do you feel the force of the jab coming from your back hip?" There was some groaning coming from different areas which I took to mean we were all feeling the burn in our hips.

We spent the rest of the class practicing the new techniques and soon class was over. Begrudgingly, I had to admit she was a great teacher. The way she demonstrated the moves made them seem easier than they were, and she had plenty of advice for women to compensate for our size differential. While she was bombarded with questions from other students, I got the hell out of there.

Before I could get far, Denise motioned me over to the juice bar. "How was kickboxing?"

"Between your Krav Maga class and this one, I'm barely putting one foot in front of the other," I said and plopped down in a chair at her table. I smiled when Denise laughed, but I was being serious. Keeping up with this training was taking its toll on my body. She took a drink from her cup and condensation dripped down the sides, falling onto the table. My mouth watered. "What is that your drinking?" I asked.

"Kim," she called out to the girl behind the counter. "Get Stephanie a strawberry banana smoothie, please."

"Thanks." I sighed gratefully.

We made small talk until my smoothie arrived. I frowned when I noticed the bits of green stuff mixed in with the strawberries and bananas.

"Go ahead," Denise encouraged. "Give it a try."

I took a cautious taste and my mouth flooded with wonderful flavors. It was nothing like the smoothies Ranger makes. "I'm pretty sure this is going to be my new favorite drink," I told her.

"Mind if I join you?" The voice came from behind me, but I didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to.

"You can have my seat. I've got to get back to work." Denise got to her feet and started walking away.

Jeanne sat down, smoothie in hand. "I was surprised to see you in my class."

Was she telling me to find another class? I regarded her suspiciously. "Are you kicking me out?" I asked after several uncomfortable moments.

She shook her head appalled that I'd asked. My only interactions with her consisted of a few minutes over a year ago, but she is not the woman I remembered. The Jeanne Ellen I remembered was sleek and untouchable—a badass like Ranger. Although she was still a badass, she was projecting a more approachable, dare I say friendly attitude. But my question caused her eyebrows to draw together, creating lines of confusion. "Why would I do that?"

I resisted the urge to look around to see if I was being punked. "Um, I guess because you don't like me?"

"Where would you get that idea?"

I was struck dumb—unable to respond. Didn't she remember her animosity toward me? And let's not forget how she hid my car.

"Maybe we've gotten our wires crossed." She smiled, putting a perfect row of white teeth on display. "For the record, I like you just fine. In fact, I told Ranger that if you gave me even the tiniest bit of interest, I'd give him a run for his money."

"Run for his money?" I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes narrowed. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? I honestly have no clue what you're talking about." And I really didn't. If she was depending on Ranger to share information, she wasn't as smart as I'd given her credit for. When I'd asked him about her, he simply smiled, humoring me, leaving me with the impression they had been romantically involved or possibly still were.

She studied me, gauging my sincerity. "I've been attracted to you since the first moment I met you. Ranger told me to back off, that you wouldn't be interested."

Talk about left field. I gulped. I did not see that coming. I sat there stunned for several seconds before laughter slipped out. I gulped again. Shit. Shit. Shit. I couldn't stop laughing. This was bad. I'm a dead woman.

Pain flashed in her eyes and she sat back in her seat. "You think it's funny?"

I quickly sobered once I realized she'd taken my laughter the wrong way. "Oh, no, it's not that. It's just—" I bit my lip as another laughing fit came over me and then I tried again. "It's just that I thought you… Ranger made me think you and him… that you and he were having an affair." She seemed to be getting the picture now because she was smiling along with me. I laughed harder. "I hated your guts because… but you weren't… and he let me think you were… or had."

She leaned forward with a big smile on her face. "Are you telling me Ranger let you believe that he and I had been sexually involved?" I couldn't talk through my laughter, so I nodded. Tears were flowing freely and by the time we finished laughing, I knew I'd made a new friend—one that I sorely needed. "I'm glad you finally decided to get training," she said once we calmed down.

"I thought it was time."

"How are you doing after—?"

"Some days are better than others." I don't know what made me say this next part, temporary insanity maybe? Either way, I verbally spewed all over her spandex outfit. "I broke off my engagement to Joe Morelli after I found him fucking Terry Gilman. Ranger doesn't want a relationship; he just wants to fuck me occasionally. I run all the time because the nightmares won't leave me alone. And I can't even go to the grocery store anymore to buy food for fear I'll attract another stalker."

I took a huge breath. "I'm sorry; I can't believe I just unloaded all of that on you. I don't usually talk about my personal feelings." I paused briefly. "It's just… I met with the FBI agent today. She wants me to talk to the families of the other victims. And now I find out you were attracted to me and not Ranger." I shook my head. "Everything's just turned upside down. Nothing makes sense anymore."

She put her hand over mine, comforting me. "I'm so sorry all that happened to you, but you're going to be fine, Stephanie. You have to give yourself time to deal with all the things you've experienced."

I breathed a sigh of frustration. "I'm tired of getting hurt. I want to learn how to be better at my job. I highly doubt you would have ever ended up in that cellar."

"I'm not invincible and neither is Ranger. You have your own set of assets. You have a great sense about people and situations. Those same skills make you a target because people are afraid of them. Once you have the self-defense training to back you up, you'll be unstoppable."

It was exactly what I needed to hear, and it came from the last person I'd ever imagined I'd hear it from.


	52. Chapter 52

**CHAPTER 52**

**Blood Money**

It was the evening before Valentine's Day and I was standing in my kitchen, dressed in my nightshirt. I was bored and hungry. A dangerous combination. I started opening and closing cabinets, searching for something to snack on. At the back of the shelf I found half a bag of pretzels and stuck my hand inside, pulling out a fistful. Rex heard the crinkling plastic of the bag and came out of his soup can, looking up at me with hopeful eyes. I dropped a pretzel in his enclosure and watched him scurry over to it. I decided I needed something to wash the pretzels down, so I grabbed a beer from the fridge, and realized that I only had two bottles left. Soon I'd need to replenish my supplies, but the thought of setting foot inside a grocery store literally had me shaking with fear. "Don't worry little buddy," I said to Rex as he stuffed his jaw full. "I won't let us starve."

While Rex and I ate our nighttime snack, I leaned on the counter, scrolling through my text messages. There was one from Mare asking if I wanted to go out tomorrow night with the girls instead of staying home on Valentine's Day. I knew she was just offering because she was a good friend. Lenny had something special planned and I wasn't going to mess that up for her. I'd already resigned myself to a night alone, wallowing in self-pity. Unfortunately, I was rarely with the one I loved when the holiday rolled around. And this year was no exception. In fact, it looked like this year might be the worst one so far.

I knew she was waiting to hear from me, so I returned her call. "I've already talked to Val, Connie, and even Lula. We're looking forward to getting you out of the house tomorrow night," she said before I could even say hi.

"I don't think that's a good idea. As soon as people see me without Morelli, rumors will start flying and I want to keep our breakup under wraps for as long as I can, especially from my mother." Tongues would begin to wag soon enough. Already, I'd had to endure curious looks laced with pity from people I've known my entire life. They all wanted the dirt on my time in the cellar, and since I wasn't talking, the Burg busybodies had resorted to making things up. That was the worst part about being home.

"I get it, but I don't like you staying in that apartment all the time. Why don't you come over here instead?"

"No. I'm sure Lenny would like some alone time with you since the kids will be at your mom's. And besides, Hector asked me to come over to his house for dinner and games with him and his Mama. I think I'm going to take him up on that."

"Okay, if that's what you want; as long as you're not alone." There was a pause on the line as if she was debating whether she should say whatever was on her mind. "Have you heard from Ranger since your argument a week ago?

"He's texted a few times, asking if I need anything, but I haven't seen him. He seems content to back off, but he's still having his men watch out for me. I've seen them around town, and someone's always stationed in my parking lot at night."

"That's because he loves you, Steph. A man wouldn't do that if he didn't love you."

"I know he loves me, Mare." I sighed. "He's told me that numerous times. But it's not the kind of love that you have with Lenny. Ranger's love involves his king-sized bed and having me in it. He's not interested in a relationship… not with me."

Changing the subject, she asked, "How does it feel being back at work?" This was my first week back and everything had gone well.

"I've reestablished my old routine and successfully brought in a few low bond skips, but I've been spending most of my time at that new gym I was telling you about. And Hector is working with me on improving my gun and lock picking skills."

"I've been looking forward to checking out the gym. We're still going to work out Saturday, right?"

"Yeah. Val, Connie, and Lula will be there as well as Jeanne Ellen Burrows. You haven't met her, but I think you'll like her. I get the impression she doesn't have many women friends."

"Well, she has five new one's now, whether she wants us or not. Oh, didn't you tell me you had a doctor's appointment today?"

"Yeah, he removed my cast and gave me a removable splint to wear for two more weeks." I breathe a delighted sigh. "I came straight home and took the longest shower in the history of women."

"I'll bet." She laughed.

Mare and I talked a little while longer and then she had to get off the phone. Morning came early for her. She had to get little one's off to school.

As I began securing the apartment for the night and turning off the lights, I felt that recurrent spark of anxiety that plagued me every night at this time. It begins in the center of my chest and flares outward until I can feel the unpleasant prickling sensations all the way in the tips of my fingers and down to my toes. It keeps me from sleeping peacefully. The only thing that seems to help is to make myself so exhausted that my body basically passes out. That means a nighttime run or a visit to the gym to use their equipment. Between all the classes I'm taking at the gym and running for miles and miles, I'm too exhausted to think let alone be afraid.

I'm sure my way of coping isn't healthy, but at least I haven't had another panic attack since that day at the mall. In my attempt to silence my fears I was unconsciously forming a wall around myself and it was getting taller and stronger each day. Instead of moving on, I was stuck in a place where I didn't feel much of anything. It was safer there, but it left me numb and I didn't know how to change it.

* * *

Seeing how much I was learning at the gym sparked an interest in Mary Lou, Val, Connie, and Lula. They started joining me when they had time and had become determined to get stronger and healthier, which is how we found ourselves working out with Jeanne Ellen on Saturday afternoon.

As we all stretched, we had to listen to Lula's detailed report of her Valentine's Day celebration with Tank. It involved lots and lots of stamina. We were all wondering how Lula was still walking. Connie rolled her eyes and asked me, "Since Joe had to work, what did you do for Valentine's Day?" It was an innocent question. She didn't know that Morelli and I had broken up and she damn sure didn't know why. If the Burg knew anything concrete about him and Terry it would be too juicy to keep quiet.

"I went over to Hector's house for dinner and played games with him and his Mama."

I was surprised to find Lester sitting on their couch, dateless and slightly depressed as well. Our moods quickly turned around when Mama brought out a large dish of enchiladas and set up the Monopoly board on her kitchen table. Lester drained us dry of money in no time. Apparently, he's a real estate shark as well as Vice President of Sales and Client Services at Rangeman.

Mama retired to her room around ten and we settled in to watch my favorite movie, _Ghostbusters_. I was touched that Lester brought it with him. Instead of going home, I slept in Hector's guest room and Lester crashed on the couch. Early the next morning, Lester dropped me off at my apartment so I could get ready for work.

"Sounds like you had a nice time at Hector's," Connie said. "I was looking forward to the girls' night Mary Lou suggested, but we understand why you didn't want to go."

Mare sensed that I wanted to get off this topic. As she did another lunge, she groaned and said, "If I hadn't gotten out of the house today, I was going to kill Lenny. I had it all plotted out in my mind." She flashed me an evil smile.

"What did Lenny do now?" I asked as we all stepped forward with our left legs.

"He has a cold," she scoffed.

"A cold?"

"Yeah," she huffed, her face red and sweaty. "The same cold I had last week. He blames me for giving it to him."

"Did you?" I asked as I wiped my brow with my towel.

"Maybe," she gave me a devious smile. "But that's not the point." I didn't bother asking. I knew she'd tell me when she was ready. "The point is—" She zoned out for a few seconds and then finally shook her herself out of her stupor. "Oh, right. Sorry, my mind wandered. Anyway, my point is, I had the same cold, and I still had to get up every morning to make lunch for him and the kids. And take them to school. And do the grocery shopping. And cook dinner. And do the laundry. And wash the dishes. And clean the house." Her voice rose with each of her _points._ "My POINT is the world didn't stop turning just because I was SICK." By the time she was done, people were staring. "And do you know where he is right now?" she hissed.

I surreptitiously glanced at Connie and then Val and then Jeanne before I slowly asked, "Where?"

"Bed." Her face was screwed up in disgust. "He didn't go to work. He's just lying there complaining. _Bring me a Kleenex_," she mimicked. "And do you know what he does with the Kleenex?"

I slowly shook my head, hoping she would spare us anymore details.

"He blows his nose and puts it under the pillow."

"Gross." We all gagged.

"The trash is RIGHT by the BED." She shook her head angrily. "If I stayed in that house one more minute it was going to get ugly."

"So, Lenny has Steph to thank for saving his life," Connie said.

Mare grumbled a response, but none of us could make out what it was. She could be a little scary at times. To be on the safe side, we all took a small step away from her.

"When Albert gets sick," Val chimed in, "he turns into such a baby. Sometimes I think of sticking Bert's pacifier in his mouth."

We were all stunned into silence by the disturbing image Val had just put in our heads. Jeanne had been silently observing the whole exchange, trying very hard to stifle her laughter. It was as if she didn't quite know what to make of us. I hated that I'd misjudged her in the past.

"Hit the mat for sit-ups, ladies," Jeanne said, and we all plopped over onto our backs, knees bent, waiting for more torture. She counted our sit ups and corrected our form. "Keep your knees together, Stephanie."

Her words struck me as funny and I started laughing. "You sound just like my mother."

Val snickered and said in a mocking voice, "Now Stephanie, good girls keep their legs together."

At that point, we gave up any pretense of working out and rolled onto our sides, giggling like teenagers. Jeanne pressed her lips together, fighting the desire to join us, but ended up snorting which sent us all into another round of hysterics.

"Next you gonna be telling her not to give her milk away for free," Lula told Jeanne.

"Hey at least I'm not selling it, right?" I added.

"Hmph. Well excuse me. My Momma was a crack ho, and we never gave nothin' away for free."

The workout session went downhill quickly after that.

* * *

It was Hector's idea to change the venue at the last minute. He was convinced the feds would covertly record my conversation with the families of Durant's victims and somehow use my words against me. Luckily, he had a contact at the Marriott Hotel across the street and was able to secure the Fireside room for the meeting. While Hector and I waited at the Marriott, Lester was across the street at the Hilton, greeting the family members and redirecting them our way. It felt weird doing this without Ranger. I missed his presence in my life these last two weeks.

The meeting wasn't what I'd expected. I guess I thought they'd be angry at me for surviving when their loved one's hadn't. Instead, they were kind to me. For over an hour, I answered questions but never talked about what Durant had done to me personally. They weren't interested in that anyway. Mostly, they wanted to be assured that Durant had suffered before he died. Unlike in the interview with the FBI, this time I answered their questions honestly. I told them he felt the impact of every kick I gave him and every swing of the shackle as it drew blood. And while he lay chained up on the mattress bleeding and waiting to die, he'd had three days to reflect on every heinous thing he'd done. The irony of his death was not lost on any of us.

Governor Allen was most appreciative. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he shook my hand and told me to let him know if I ever needed anything.

Speaking about the cellar so candidly brought feelings that I'd started to bury back to the surface. By the time I pulled away from the hotel, my anger was at an all-time high. As if my Jeep had a mind of its own, it headed in the direction of the gym, which was fast becoming a second home to me, and right now nothing sounded better than pounding on the punching bag.

Jeanne was setting up for her class when I arrived. She took one look at me and gloved up. There were no questions or offers of platitudes. She knew what I needed and didn't hesitate in giving it to me. Since I was still in a splint, we sparred one handed. An hour later, I was so tired I could barely move. We dropped onto the mat, falling over onto our backs gasping for breath. When my breathing evened out, I told her about meeting the families of Durant's victims. She listened and didn't interrupt, which was something else I needed.

Two days later, I walked into the bank to deposit a check from Connie and got the surprise of my life when the teller handed me a receipt with my new balance of $1,502,341.57. "There must be a mistake," I told her as I held the receipt up, pointing to the obviously wrong total.

She checked her screen again and smiled. "There's been no mistake, ma'am."

"Yes, there has," I insisted, my voice getting louder. "I should only have $2,341.57 in my account, but there's more than that. A whole lot more."

An impeccably dressed middle-aged man overheard our conversation and moved closer to the teller. "I'm Bill Knowles, the bank president, can I help you?"

I sighed, grateful that someone was finally going to get this sorted out and annoyed that I had to deal with their error in the first place. Doing my best not to focus on the tuft of hair in the center of his forehead that was supposed to disguise the fact that he was rapidly losing his hair, I explained. "There's been a very big mistake with my account."

He gave me a patronizing smile. "I can assure you; we don't make mistakes here at First Federal Bank."

"Well someone made a mistake, because as of yesterday I was almost broke, and now I have all this." I waved the balance slip in his face.

He nudged the teller to the side so he could use her computer. He typed on the keyboard and then he looked up at me. "Please follow me into my office Ms. Plum."

"Why? What's going on?" I looked around to see who was witnessing my humiliation. The last thing I wanted was to stir up more rumors about me.

"It's a little unusual, but nothing to be worried about." He took off in the direction of a corner office, expecting me to follow.

"A little unusual? What does that mean?" I asked as I kept up with his pace. "You really need to start talking because you're freaking me out!"

He cleared his throat and took his seat behind the desk. "It seems that 1.5 million dollars was wired into your account today."

My breath hitched, and I dropped into the closest chair. "Wired from where? Why would someone do that?"

"It was wired from an account at Trust National Bank." His brows crinkled as he scrutinized his computer screen. "This is odd."

"What's odd? Don't leave me hanging." This man was exasperating. Why wouldn't he just spit it out already.

"There's a notation to call the bank if the recipient has any questions."

"Go ahead." I motioned to his phone. "Make the call!"

"I think it's a call you're supposed to make, Ms. Plum."

Why was I supposed to fix someone else's error? I blew out a frustrated breath and asked, "What's the number?"

I took my phone out of my bag and began punching in the numbers he gave me. As I waited for the call to connect, I tried to think of all the rational reasons this could have happened and came up empty. A woman answered, and I told her my problem. She of course put me on hold, and I was transferred to another woman. "Good afternoon Ms. Plum, I've been made aware that you have questions regarding a wire transfer from an escrow account we set up?"

"Yes," I said with some relief to finally be getting to the bottom of this mystery. "I discovered money in my account that I didn't put there. The bank manager here said it originated from your bank. I need to know how to return it."

"I commend you, Ms. Plum, for your civic duty but there has been no mistake. The transaction has been handled exactly as instructed. You, Ms. Plum are the intended recipient." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"I don't understand. Why would someone wire 1.5 million dollars into my account?"

"The trustee of the account has given me the authority to inform you that this account was made up of reward money for information leading to the location of several abducted women."

"A reward?" I swallowed heavily. I didn't want it.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked.

"No," I mumbled and hung up. I don't know how long I sat, confused and angry.

"We have an in-house financial advisor that can help you decide how best to invest your money," Mr. Knowles offered.

"I… I'll leave it for now," I said, as I made my way out of his office and to my car.

I dialed Agent Kinkade. She picked up on the second ring. Without even announcing myself I asked, "Did you know there was a reward?"

"Stephanie?"

"Yeah, it's me." I cleared my throat. "Sorry, I'm a little shocked. I just found 1.5 million dollars in my checking account."

"Why were you shocked? The papers you signed last week outlined the reward and authorized the transfer."

"They did?" Maybe I didn't read them as closely as I thought. "Sorry, I guess I should have had Cyrus come with me after all." I paused, suddenly remembering that Ranger had put up a reward for me while I was missing. "Did this money come from Ranger?" I asked, horrified at the thought of him having to pay me for rescuing myself.

"Mr. Manoso did put up a reward, but it was dissolved once you'd freed yourself from Durant."

"So, none of this money is from Ranger?"

"No."

I shook my head as if she could see me through the phone. "It doesn't matter. I don't want it. I'm still at the bank; can you tell me how to send it back?"

"I'm afraid I can't. From what I remember, several family members of Durant's victims and a number of community organizations offered rewards, including Governor Allen, who put up quite a hefty sum for information about his niece, Ashley. But even if I could tell you where the money originated, I couldn't help you get it back to them. Rewards are set up in escrow accounts and are governed by an independent trustee, not the original owner of the money. Once the conditions of the reward have been met, there's no stopping the transfer. Why don't you give it a few days and see how you feel about it then?" she suggested.

"This isn't right. I can't take this money," I whispered and hung up without saying goodbye.

I don't deserve that money, but refusing it seemed impossible. As far as I was concerned, it could stay in the bank forever.

* * *

Later that evening, a little more than a month since I escaped from the cellar, I sat down across from Jeanne at our usual table in the juice bar. We'd just finished kickboxing class and we were both tired. I wasn't sure what or whom Jeanne had waiting for her at home, but I wasn't in any hurry to leave. We drank our smoothies, comfortable with the silence between us. From the aggressive way I fought in class this afternoon, she knew something was troubling me, but she wasn't the type to pry. She lent her support by enduring my unskilled combination of hits as we sparred. Lucky for me, instead of rising to the challenge, her counterstrikes had been few and only when necessary to keep me from spiraling out of control. I wasn't kidding myself. We both knew she could have knocked me out anytime she'd wanted.

Halfway through my smoothie, I started talking. I told her about the reward money, and I told her about the darkness growing inside me—taking root. I knew something needed to change, but I didn't know what.

"You're letting him rule your life from the grave," she said. I could offer no rebuttal. It was true and we both knew it. "There's something I've been wondering about," she continued. "Why did you join this gym? Why not take advantage of Rangeman resources and let them train you?"

I snorted and looked away. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Didn't you hear?" I tried to keep the resentment out of my voice, but I wasn't entirely successful. "I'm the entertainment."

Her brows narrowed in question.

"When my cars blow up or I get in crazy situations with my skips, it's all funny to the police and even some of the Rangemen. I'm fodder for the gossip mill—just something to laugh at. Plus, what if I asked for training and failed to live up to their standards. It was hard enough staying in your class that first day."

"I would never laugh at you, Stephanie."

"I know." I assured her. "It's just easier getting training outside of Rangeman." I paused and then voiced something I'd been considering since I woke up in the hospital. "What I'd really like to do is get out of town. Maybe get intensive training at a private boot camp or something."

"Are you serious?" She studied me.

"What I'm learning here is great, but it's not happening fast enough."

Her smile brightened. "I may have an idea, but it won't be cheap and your whereabouts would have to be kept confidential. The person I'm thinking about lives off the grid for personal reasons, but I might be able to get him to agree to train you."

My pulse sped up. "How soon can you find out?"


	53. Chapter 53

**CHAPTER 53**

**A Bitter Pill To Swallow**

It was Monday evening, a little over two weeks after I broke up with Morelli. I'd just finished my kickboxing class and was drinking a smoothie in the juice bar with Jeanne. I was lingering, not particularly eager to go back to my apartment. Plus, I was enjoying getting to know her better. She'd led an interesting life and wasn't shy about sharing her stories.

"I was shocked to find you teaching here at the gym," I told her. "I haven't seen you around Trenton since Annie and Evelyn left town."

"I try to fly under the radar," Jeanne said. "But when Denise opened the gym, she asked me for a favor. I confess. I haven't actually taught a kickboxing class before."

"I never would've guessed this was your first time teaching. I'm learning a lot in your class." We quietly drank our smoothies and then I asked, "Are you still working for Les Sebring?"

"He calls me in on certain cases, but mostly I freelance."

"You work for other bond agents?"

"I specialize in tracking down missing children, so I go wherever I'm needed."

"Wow, I had no idea," I said, viewing her with even more respect. "You really are a superhero."

"Superhero?" She laughed and tried to downplay her contribution to society.

"When I first me you, Connie, Lula, and I referred to you as Catwoman to Ranger's Batman."

"Catwoman… " She thought about it and shrugged. "I like it."

My phone rang for the third time in five minutes. Every time it rang, Jeanne stopped talking and looked at me, waiting to see if I was going to answer. I blew out a frustrated breath. My phone had been blowing up all day. As soon as I walked into the bond's office this morning, I knew something was going on. Connie and Lula wouldn't even look me in the eye. "Just spit it out," I said to them.

"Joe was spotted at a bar near Princeton over the weekend chatting up a young woman," Connie blurted, and then looked down at the file in her hands as if she couldn't bear to see the pain in my eyes.

I wasn't surprised to hear that Joe had found someone else to take my place in his bed, but I was surprised that it wasn't Terry. From what I witnessed between them in Philly, I was sure he'd run back to her to lick his wounds. Not that it was any of my business anymore. Now that the cat was out of the bag, there was no point in denying it, so I told them the truth. "Don't feel bad on my behalf. We broke up a couple weeks ago. Morelli's free to do whatever he wants." I waited for them to bombard me with questions, but I was met with silence, confusion, and maybe a little hurt that I hadn't confided in them.

My phone stopped ringing and then started again. "Are you going to answer that?" Jeanne asked as I glanced down at my gym bag, lying on the floor.

"News about my breakup with Joe has hit the Burg," I explained as I reached into the bag and pulled out my phone, noticing that a lot of the calls were from my mother. I quickly listened to the last voice mail from her. _"Stephanie, this is your mother. Bring Joseph to dinner Friday—six o'clock."_ I sighed, knowing that she'd heard about the breakup. "I'm going to have to talk to her about the end of my relationship with Morelli," I told Jeanne as I turned off my phone.

Jeanne frowned, appalled on my behalf. "Will she pressure you to stay with a man who cheats on you?"

"No. It's not that," I tried to explain. "Growing up, my mother constantly warned me about those _No-good Morelli boys_. I didn't listen to her when I was a kid and I let him do something to me that I didn't really understand at the time." I looked down at my cup, watching the condensation from my drink dripping onto the table as I thought about going into the garage with him.

Jeanne's brows narrowed. I'm pretty sure she understood the kind of thing I was talking about but recognized that I didn't want to delve into the particulars.

"We were both kids, so I don't blame him for what he did. The point is that I didn't listen to her when I was six or when I was sixteen or when he came back into my life as an adult." I sat back in my chair, feeling comfortable sharing with her, which was a change for me. Usually, I hated talking about my personal life, but Jeanne made it easy. "My first case as a bounty hunter was to bring him in. Did you know that?"

"I checked you out when we first met." She admitted. "You've had some interesting cases."

"That's a polite way to put it," I said, knowing how the newspapers sensationalized my exploits. "I think Ranger agreed to train me simply so he could have a front row seat to all my screw ups… and as you know, there were plenty."

"I doubt you were that bad," she said, giving me the benefit of the doubt.

"I really was." I laughed. "I can laugh about it now, but at the time it wasn't funny. I was struggling to make ends meet and was seconds away from having to move back in with my parents… at my age." I visibly shuddered. "Everyone doubted that I could bring in a seasoned detective. And they were right to think that. I had no problem finding Morelli. I just couldn't get him to come to the station with me. He used his physical strength against me, so I had to get creative. In the end, I tricked him."

She was smiling as I told the story. "Oh, this is going to be good. Isn't it?"

"One of my finest moments. If I do say so myself." I shrugged and returned her smile, enjoying the moment as I said, "I locked him in the back of a refrigerator truck."

"You didn't." She laughed.

"I did," I assured her as I joined in her laughter.

"So, your mom eventually came around and decided that Joe Morelli was a stand-up guy?"

"She wasn't pleased when I first brought him to a family dinner. She tried to talk me out of seeing him, but I wouldn't listen… again. Eventually, she saw that I loved him, and it seemed like Morelli had changed. He was an upstanding member of the community now that he was a cop and had his own home. My mother's number one wish is for both of her daughters to settle down and I'm sure she was hoping things with Joe were heading in that direction."

"So, how did he go from being locked in a refrigerator truck to becoming your fiancé?"

"It happened over time." I shrugged. "I've always had a hard time saying no to him."

"Is this time different? Are you going to be able to stay away?"

"I get why you ask. We've been on and off so many times, but the difference this time is that we were in a committed relationship when he cheated. The trust is broken and there's no way for me to get it back." I paused for a minute and then added, "It turns out that Morelli was no better than Dickie."

"Dickie?"

"My ex-husband. We were briefly married until he cheated on me too. You're new to town, so you probably haven't heard about it, but our divorce made headlines for weeks. He was a rising star in the District Attorney's office and the scandal from our divorce ruined his aspirations for higher office."

"And you think I've led an interesting life," she scoffed.

"This time, the gossip will be much worse. Morelli is practically Burg royalty. They're going to tear me apart. If they don't know the facts, they'll make them up and spread them as if they're true."

"Why don't you tell them that he was caught cheating with… you know who," she whispered so the people nearby couldn't hear.

"That would just keep the rumors alive longer. I want this to go away quickly. In fact, I'm hoping your friend will agree to train me and I can get out of town for a while. Maybe even for good."

"He finally returned my call yesterday to tell me he'll think about it. I should know something in a couple days." She leaned back in her chair, changing the subject back to my mother. "She expects you to bring Morelli to dinner. What are you going to do?"

"When Friday rolls around, Morelli will not be sitting at my mother's dining room table. He's eaten his last meal at Casa Plum."

She smiled and nodded her head to emphasize her agreement.

* * *

Throughout the next day, rumors about my breakup continued to get worse. I tried to keep my head down, dodging the rude questions and pitying looks. I even managed to bring in a skip. As hard as my day had been, it was about to get harder. I was on my way to see Ranger to have a conversation that was probably not going to be received well.

I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, my heart beating a nervous staccato against my ribs. We hadn't talked much since our heated conversation about boundaries, and I was worried our friendship had suffered irreparably. But when I texted him earlier asking him if I could come over, he responded quickly, telling me he'd see me tonight around eight.

When the elevator doors opened, he was standing in the doorway of his apartment waiting for me. My stomach flip flopped at the sight of him standing bare feet in gym pants and a black t-shirt, the ends of his hair still wet from a recent shower. "Have you eaten?" he asked as he stepped to the side, allowing me to enter. "I can have Ella send something up."

"Thanks," I said as I walked past him and into the kitchen, "but I grabbed a meatball sub from Pino's a little while ago."

Usually I'd have taken a seat on the stool at the island and gotten comfortable, but this wasn't a casual visit. While he studied me, I looked around his apartment, remembering the last time I used his place as a safe refuge. I'd been sitting at his desk in his office when he came home. He smiled and my chest did that funny fluttering thing and then he confessed, _it's nice to find you here when I get home_. Saying things like that was what made it hard for me to be around him right now. He makes me want him and then he takes the sentiment back. All I wanted was a partner to share my life with. I didn't necessarily need marriage and children. Just someone I could count on to have my back and me his. I didn't think I was asking too much.

He came to stand in front of me. "I see you got your cast off. Any problems?"

"No. I have an appointment with Dr. Carson tomorrow. He'll probably tell me that I don't need the splint anymore. He said something about sending me to physical therapy." It was awkward making small talk with Ranger. In a way, I felt like he was a stranger. Wanting to get out from under his scrutiny, I took the prepared check out of my bag and handed it to him. "Here, this is for you."

Instead of taking it, he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced down at the check and then back up at me. There was a flash of something in his eyes that could have been confusion or maybe it was anger. Either way, it was gone before I could analyze it. I thrust the check at him, urging him to take it, but he just stood there, staring at me and making me antsy. Finally, he reached out and slowly took the check from my hand. After he read it, he raised one eyebrow and asked, "Eight hundred thousand dollars?"

Mr. Knowles, from the bank, had advised me that I would owe around 40% in income taxes, so I held back $600,000 to take care of that. I also held back a little to pay for bootcamp and to keep me going until I got back on my feet. The rest I was giving to Ranger. I wasn't sure if it was enough to reimburse him for all the destroyed cars and the many hours he's had his men watching out for me, but it was all I had, and I _needed_ to square things with him. Our friendship had been one-sided for far too long.

"Where did this money come from?"

"There was a reward for—" I stopped long enough to keep my emotions from bubbling over. It made me sick to think of being rewarded for bringing justice to the women in the cellar. Being alive when they were dead was hard enough to deal with. "I've never been in a position to pay you before, so I want you to have this money," I told him. As usual, I had no clue what was going on in his head, and since his face was blank, I forged ahead. "While I was missing, you neglected your company. That had to hurt your business, not to mention what you paid your men to search for me." I drew in a breath. "And that's not taking into account all the cars of yours that I've blown up over the years."

As if disgusted by my offering, he pushed the check back into my hand before turning his back on me. He walked to the living room and sat in the leather club chair, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled against his chin. His eyes were cast downward as if he couldn't look at me.

I followed him, stopping when my hip met the arm of the couch opposite him. This wasn't going how I'd planned. I stood silently waiting for him to say something. He stared at the floor, his voice sounding pained as he said, "I've never asked you for payment."

We were in a precarious place. I wanted to mean something to him—something more than entertainment. "I know you've never asked me to repay you, but I'm offering it to you anyway. I don't want this money, so take it. Please." I walked closer, holding the check out to him, hoping he'd just take the damn money, so I wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

He lifted his head, letting his eyes run up and down the length of my body, and then he sighed. "You look tired. I know you're not sleeping. Are you eating enough?"

"Yeah, I'm eating enough." Realizing he wasn't going to take the check from me, I let my hand drop to my side and took a seat on the couch.

"And when do you sleep?" he asked. "You're out running at all hours. I don't have to tell you how dangerous that is."

"Dangerous?" I huffed. "How can it be dangerous when you have your men tailing me 24/7? That costs money, Ranger. Take the check." I laid it on the coffee table between us. "And call off your men."

Anyone else would have missed the little tick beside his left eye as he said, "No."

"No?" I asked in disbelief. "Your friendship is important to me, but it can't continue under these conditions."

"You're displaying an unhealthy pattern of behavior, Babe. You're not sleeping, you're not eating enough, you spend all your time at that new gym. I don't like what I'm seeing."

I stayed silent while I let his description of me sink in. I hated that he was judging me. "I'm putting one foot in front of the other, the best way I know how."

"Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because you can't." It pained me to say that to him because more than anything I wished that I could fall into his arms and take the support he was offering, but I drew a line between us to protect myself. If I gave in now, I would be lost. Didn't he see that?

"But you'll let Hector help you?" he asked, pausing for a minute before continuing. "You go to the gun range with him almost every day and he spends hours every evening with you in your apartment." He was doing his best to hide his anger, but I heard traces of it.

I didn't want him to think he wasn't important to me. He meant more to me than anyone. "You're one of my best friends, but right now, I can't lean on you." I shook my head, saddened that our friendship had come to this. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"This is because of my stance on relationships. You're trying to put distance between us."

"I'm trying to keep the lines between us from blurring any further," I told him, trying one more time to get him to understand. "Just take the money, Ranger. I don't want it."

"You want to pay your debt to me as you so nicely put it and walk away." His eyes studied me, assessing. "Is this because of Morelli?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he knew about Morelli, everyone did. "Morelli isn't part of my life anymore."

He sat back in his chair. "You'll work it out, Babe. You always do."

"Not this time," I said with conviction, irritated that he didn't believe me.

He paused, weighing his words. "You found out about Terry Gilman." It was a statement, not a question.

My eyes must have widened to the size of saucers. "You knew?" I snorted. Who am I kidding, of course he knew. Ranger knew everything. "How long have you known?" I needed to know the exact day he found out. If he'd kept this from me, I'd never be able to trust him again. Ever.

"I thought it was suspicious that he'd go out of town so soon after you got home. My contacts at the police department informed me that he was taking a few days personal time and wasn't on assignment like he said. I had someone follow him to a house in Philly owned by Terry Gilman. Considering he was gone all weekend it was a natural assumption that something was going on between them."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Babe, you have a history of only seeing what you want to see. And you know what always happens to the messenger?"

"So, you weren't going to tell me?"

"After what you've been through, you needed time to adjust before this was dumped on you. As long as you were staying at your apartment and not at his house, I could give you that time." At my stunned expression, he added, "Surely, this didn't come as a surprise. I did warn you about his intentions when we were in Orlando."

"No." I slowly shook my head. "You said he'd been stringing me along since we were kids." He continued looking at me with a blank face. "That's not the same thing as telling me he's cheating on me."

"People acknowledge what they want. You're a smart woman. I assumed you didn't _want_ to see it."

I took a deep breath to settle myself. "You thought I would just go along with him cheating on me?"

"I'm not privy to the inner workings of your relationship." He calmly stated. "On again, off again. You were with me on occasion. For all I knew it was an arrangement you had with him. It's not up to me to keep track of your boyfriend. I make sure _you_ don't get broken, not your heart."

His words stung, but I knew he was right. I looked down at the floor, avoiding his penetrating gaze. I took deep breaths trying to drown out his past declarations as they floated around in my head.

_My lifestyle doesn't lend itself to relationships__._

_Your running up quite a bill, I assume you'll tell me when you're ready to settle your account._

_I bleed money every time you need protection. _

_I have you listed under entertainment. _

_You're comedy relief for my entire team. _

_There are all kinds of love, this kind doesn't call for a ring, but a condom might come in handy. _

And the last one, the biggest lie of all.

_You have all the power, Babe. _

Power? My heart seized and I shook my head at my stupidity. What a joke! The only power I had was whether I spread my legs for him. This man didn't love me. When a man loves a woman, he doesn't tell her she isn't worth making a few changes to his 'lifestyle'… and he damn sure doesn't send her back to another man's bed. This sudden realization was a bitter pill to swallow

I finally lifted my head, emboldened by my new perspective. "You want to know what I think?" I smiled thinly, sadness permeating my whole body, right down to my toes. "In Orlando, I think you told me just enough to change my mind about sleeping with you, but not enough to convince me to break it off with Joe. I also think you like having me in a relationship with another man. He meets all of my emotional needs, while you slip in to fuck me when you have the time."

His nostrils flared, and for a minute, I thought I'd gone too far.

"The funny thing is… " My eyes flashed with mocking humor and I huffed out a laugh. "I didn't have sex with you in Orlando because of what you said about Morelli stringing me along." I shook my head and laughed harder at my own stupidity. "It was the pool table, that fucking pool table." I leaned forward, sliding the check along the coffee table. "If you don't take the money, you're making me a woman who fucks you for cars and protection and contrary to what you or anyone else thinks… I am not a whore."

Instead of becoming hotheaded with rage when he's angry, Ranger gets calm… eerily calm. It's almost as if he goes to a safe realm to process his emotions. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but intense. "I'm going to ignore that because you're upset, but I don't want to ever hear you call yourself that again."

"Why not? We make deals for sex. Deals to bring in skips. Deals for destroying your cars." I calmly paused and thought about it. "Yup. Sounds like a whore to me."

"You're angry," he said. "If you need to take your anger out on someone, I understand." He paused to take a deep breath that almost sounded like a sigh. "I'm always here for you. I'm not going anywhere. I wish you'd open up about what happened to you in the cellar. Just talk to me, Babe."

I couldn't help the laugh that slipped out. Talk? Did he just advise me to talk? The man didn't know the meaning of the word. Ironically, a couple months ago, I would have told him anything he wanted to know, but things changed that day in my apartment when I laid my heart out to him. Now I had to rely on myself. No one else. No matter how much a person tells you they love you, they always let you down. And besides it's not like he confides in me.

He'd been looking at me with narrowed eyes, waiting for me to let him in on what was so funny, but what was the point. There wasn't anything for me here. There never had been. Unless you count occasionally warming his bed or waiting around for him to slip into mine.

"If you won't talk to me, let me find another therapist, one you're comfortable with."

"I'm fine," I said as I got to my feet.

"You're not fine." He rose from his chair to stand in front of me, eyes narrowing. "You're different."

"People change." I shrugged.

His face wasn't blank anymore. He was looking at me with love… compassion… pity… I couldn't be sure which one.

I felt my face start to get hot and my eyes began to burn. I looked up at the ceiling, trying not to blink. If I blinked, the tears would fall. I had to get out of here. I left the check on the coffee table and practically ran for the door. He reached for me but missed. "I have to go," I said over my shoulder. I made it out of his apartment and instead of pushing the button to draw the elevator, I ran down the stairs. Halfway down to the sixth floor, I heard the stairway door slam shut above me, and knew he wasn't coming after me. I don't know if I was grateful or disgusted by my pathetic wish that he would.

* * *

**Ranger's POV**

"Fuck," I said, dropping my head back and running my hand down my face. I couldn't let her leave… not like this. I started for the door with the intention of bringing her back. Just as I stepped out of my apartment, the stairwell door closed behind her. She was running from me and chasing her would make everything worse. I went back inside to pull up the video feed. I needed to see for myself that she was okay to drive. As I made my way to my home office, I spotted the damn check, still lying on the coffee table, and picked it up, balling it in my fist. There was no way in hell I was cashing it.

Just as she hit the landing for the fifth floor, the stairwell door opened, and Lester burst in. They bumped into each other, nearly knocking her down. My instincts screamed for me to rush down and save her, but I knew I wouldn't get to her in time. I watched as Lester's arms came around her to keep her from falling. I was grateful that he was there until I saw the look in his eyes. He wanted her. I suspected as much. Lester was a good guy, a good cousin, and a good soldier. Something had happened to him on his last tour, but he wouldn't divulge what it was, and I couldn't find out because his mission had been classified. Whatever it was, it had changed him. He hadn't dated since then. And that was over three years ago. In fact, I hadn't seen him with a woman at all, except Stephanie.

Stephanie quickly glanced up to see who had caught her, and visibly relaxed when she saw that it was Lester. In that brief moment, I saw that her face was wet with tears. She immediately lowered her head before Lester could get a better look, but his frown told me he'd also seen her tears and since she'd been coming down from the seventh floor, I was most likely the reason for them. He glanced up at the camera, situated in the upper corner. Knowing me as well as he did, he knew I was watching and listening. He turned her so that her back was to the camera and I couldn't see her face anymore. Asshole.

Lester's attention returned to Stephanie. "Hey, what's going on? Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," she said as she straightened the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. "I just need to get out of here."

"Okay, Beautiful," he said as he smoothed her bangs off her forehead. "No problem. But first, tell me what happened to make you so upset?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do I need to kill someone?" he joked, but I knew he was serious. Somehow, Hector and Lester had bonded with her. On one hand I was grateful they were willing to keep her safe and on the other hand I was jealous because she was turning to them instead of me. Jealousy was an emotion I wasn't familiar with and I didn't enjoy it.

She looked up at him. "No killing anyone on my behalf," she said and sighed. "I guess you heard about Morelli and Terry Gilman?"

He nodded. "I heard about it yesterday and asked Hector if the rumors were true. He admitted they were and that you already knew."

"It's true, alright."

"Is that how you found out? The rumors."

"No, I found out a couple weeks ago, but I'll tell you about that another time." So, she'd known as long as I had. I doubt Morelli confessed. I wonder how she found out. And then it dawned on me. Hector. I thought I was doing the right thing by not piling more on her shoulders than she could handle. But maybe if I'd told her when I first found out she wouldn't have felt betrayed by me. Stephanie doesn't give her trust easily and I didn't want to lose it.

"I haven't eaten," Lester told her. "What if I pick something up and we watch a movie tonight?"

"I ate a meatball sub earlier, but I'm up for watching a movie, if you want."

He looked her up and down. "You could use another meal. How about I pick up Chinese?" he coaxed and damned if she didn't relent. I tired not to be hurt that she'd refused the dinner I offered, but it felt like she was shutting me out and I didn't like it.

"I'm out of beer," she told him and looked back down at the floor.

"No problem. I can stop by the grocery store and pick up some cold ones."

Her eyes flew to his as if he was doing her an amazing favor. "Rex is out of baby carrots. While you're there, could you pick up a pack?" she hesitantly asked.

"Got it, Beautiful," he immediately agreed. "Does _Rex_ need anything else?"

"Maybe a box of strawberry Poptarts. He likes a little bite before bed. Actually, I'm kinda running low on several things." She looked away as if her admission was painful.

"I know the kinds of foods you like," he said without question. "I'll just get a little of everything. How's that sound?"

She was beaming with gratitude when she looked back up at him. "That sounds great. Thank you," she said and then her smile fell, and her eyes widened as if she remembered something important. "Just… no ice cream, okay?" She was shaking her head for emphasis. What was her problem with ice cream? It had something to do with her time in the cellar, but I didn't know what it could be.

Lester studied her, most likely remembering how she freaked out in the hospital when he brought her ice cream and remembering my telling him that she'd thrown all the cartons in her freezer away when she got home, but he didn't ask any questions. "Got it. No ice cream. Anything else?"

"Nope," she said and then started pulling her wallet out of her messenger bag.

He put his hand on her arm, stilling her. "We'll settle up when I get to your place. Come on," he said as he slung his arm around her shoulder, "walk with me to the garage. You can be my bodyguard." She elbowed him in the ribs and laughed. "What? You don't think all this is worth guarding?" He rubbed his free hand up and down his chest. "This body is a work of art." She giggled. She literally giggled.

I switched to the garage camera and sure enough, Hector was leaning against her Jeep… waiting. "Hermano," Lester said as he and Hector did their complicated handshake. Steph waited until they were done and leaned into Hector giving him a hug.

"Have you been crying?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I had something in my eye. I'm good now."

Hector raised an eyebrow, knowing he wasn't getting the full story.

"This one wants Chinese." Lester pointed at Stephanie. "You gonna join us?" he asked Hector.

"Lester's coming over to stream a movie. Will you come too?"

"Si," he said to Stephanie.

"Text me your orders," Lester said as he got in his car and sped off.

"You can ride with me and Lester can give you a ride home later?" she said to Hector, "or you can stay the night if you want." Was I imagining it or was that hope in her eyes?

Hector must have seen it to because he said, "I can stay over if you want." She nodded as if it had been decided and instead of taking the keys from her so he could drive, he got into the passenger seat and they drove out of the garage.

I shut off the computer and unclenched my left fist, dropping the wadded up check onto my desk. I took a few deep breaths, trying to get myself under control. I'd never been this angry with her. I didn't understand what was going through her mind. She said I made her feel like a whore. Was that true? If it was, it was never my intention. And now she wanted to pay me back for everything I've done for her. I did all those things because I wanted to, not because I expected to be repaid. Didn't she understand that?

Just when I thought my anger was going to burn out of control, my eyes settled on the little Porsche Boxster and the garbage truck she got me for Christmas. They weren't expensive or rare, but they were priceless to me. I picked them up off the desk, holding them carefully. They were the only things in my entire apartment that had any personal connection to me. Normally when I looked at them happiness welled up inside me but right now their presence made me feel empty.

As I stared at the cars in my hand, I thought about the things she said to me tonight. I had no idea my actions were causing her to feel bad about herself. I didn't mean to confuse her or hurt her. She is the bright spot in the darkness of my life. When I first met her, I pegged her as the quintessential girl next door and definitely not the type of woman I usually went for. I liked my women curvy with an abundance of tits and ass. Of course, a pretty face was required to go along with those assets. In my younger days, it was all about the conquest. I never hung around any longer than it took for me to get what I wanted. And I rarely went back for seconds. But that reckless young guy ended up getting an innocent girl pregnant.

I put the toy cars in their place on my desk and leaned back in my chair, thinking about how badly I messed up back then. Rachel was the younger sister of one of the guys I graduated with. She was a good girl but not completely innocent. We met at a beach party some of the guys from the old neighborhood were throwing. She'd just turned eighteen and was out that night because she was lonely and hurting. A couple months prior, her boyfriend had dumped her before leaving for college. She was looking for someone to pour her heart out to and I was looking to get laid before heading overseas. That one drunken coupling with a faulty condom had made me a father for life.

From that moment on, I was meticulously careful not to let anything like that happen again, and it wasn't just to avoid creating another human. I wore a condom because I didn't want to risk my health. When I was younger, and enjoying the party scene, I didn't hesitate to pick up women in bars, take them to a hotel room or back to their place for a few hours of sex. As soon as we were done, I was gone. After I left the military, I didn't want to play the pickup sex game anymore. These days I have a couple of women I call when I need to release some steam. I make sure they're tested and practice safe sex. For me, it's the responsible way to handle my needs. The only woman I've ever gone without a condom with is Stephanie.

I closed my eyes, thinking about our time in Hawaii. I got so caught up in the romance of being part of a couple that for the first time ever I forgot the condom. Being inside of her bare and feeling her hot wetness strangling me made me want to stay there with her in paradise for the rest of my life. But then Morelli showed up and everything changed. I'd never felt such rage toward another human being than I had when he inserted himself into our happy cocoon. Over the years, it has been hard for me knowing they were in a sexual relationship and that she turned to him in the night for comfort, letting him inside her body. That knowledge pushed me to the edge of my control. I've only ever experienced jealousy in regard to Stephanie, but while she's having her sexual needs met, I have needs too.

The women I have arrangements with know the score. Even though it's a mutually beneficial exchange, I'm careful to make sure they don't develop feelings. Salina is what some would call a friend with benefits. I met her while attending a lunch meeting with my uncle Alejandro and my cousin Eduardo in Miami. She was serving our table and of course, Eduardo hit on her. I was pleased to watch her shut him down cold and even more intrigued when I caught her glancing in my direction a few times during lunch. After a thorough background check, I went back to the restaurant alone just in time for her shift to end. We were together a few times while I set up the business and our arrangement sort of took shape. She wasn't looking to settle down and appreciated my financial help. She was able to move into a nice condo without a roommate and start her training with a major airline. If she needs something, she asks and I try to help her, but we don't spend our time together talking about our hopes and dreams for the future.

The other woman I see occasionally is entirely focused on her career with no room for a committed relationship. It's something we both have in common. The only difference between her and Salina is that I don't pay her lease or give her spending money. If I offered, she'd consider it an insult. It's harder for us to get together because of our schedules, but when we do, the rules are the same. No sleepovers. No dates. It's a mutually satisfying arrangement that only works as long as both partners are playing by the same rules.

Stephanie is not like them. I've eaten meals with her. I've cooked for her. I've even taken her to restaurants… under the guise of business but still, it's more than I've given any other woman. She has no idea how much of me she has. Sometimes, it's too much. I don't mean to push and pull, but I'm only human. I want. I need. I take. Does that make me an asshole? Probably.

My arrangements might seem callously self-serving, but at this point in my life I'm not interested in a relationship. I've never been in one and don't intend to change that. I like being able to come and go as I please without having to take someone else's wishes into account. If I want to accept a mission that takes me away from Trenton for several months, then I can do that without letting anyone down. But there are times when I feel weighed down by the loneliness of my lifestyle. That's when I make comments to Stephanie about sharing closet space and think of offering her more. If I was ready to settle down, I would want her at my side. For her, I would even say please.


	54. Chapter 54

**CHAPTER 54**

**Getting the Hell Out of Dodge**

When Friday evening rolled around, Joe Morelli was not sitting at my mother's dining room table. To avoid answering questions about the status of my relationship, I took a page out of my father's book and kept my head down, shoveling food into my mouth as fast as I could. I'd prearranged for Mare to call me with an emergency, and at 6:30 on the dot my phone rang. I made my excuses and at 6:31, I was out the door. My mother had rushed after me, calling my name, but I didn't let the sound of her frustrated voice stop me.

As I drove away, I didn't feel the usual relief that came with avoiding a lecture from my mother on how I'm screwing up my life. I felt weak and cowardly. I was a grown woman for shit's sake. I shouldn't be afraid to speak my mind to anyone, especially my family. I was going to have to give that some thought.

Halfway home, Jeanne called and asked me to meet her at the gym. "It's all set," she said as we sat down at our usual table in the juice bar. "You leave in nine days and you'll be gone for twelve weeks, but it's not going to be cheap."

"How much?"

"He wants $20,000 in cash," she said and paused to see if I was going to balk at the amount. "I know it sounds like a lot," she defended, "but he has to build a few training obstacles and get everything set up."

She was right; that wasn't cheap, but I simply nodded and said, "That's fine. I'm sure his time and expertise will be worth it." My motives for training weren't just about becoming a better bounty hunter. Right now, I wasn't even sure I was going to continue in that line of work. But no matter what I did with my life, knowing how to protect myself was priceless to me.

"He does have a couple stipulations." I nodded and waited for her to elaborate. "You need to get a medical release from your doctor. In fact, a full physical would be preferable. The training regimen is brutal, and he needs to know how hard he can push you."

"No problem. I'm due for one anyway."

"He also wants me to stress to you the importance of confidentiality. He likes his life the way it is. No intrusions from the outside world. This is a huge favor he's doing for me."

"I know and I'm grateful to both of you. I promise I won't tell anyone where I'm going unless you approve." That seemed to make her feel better. "So, who is this guy and where am I going?"

She smiled at my eagerness. "His name is Finnegan Scott." Why did that name sound familiar? I was certain I'd heard it recently. I shook off the moment of déjà vu and tuned back into what she was saying. "I've known Finn for a long time. We worked together at the Bureau."

"Wait a minute." I held up my hand. "You were an FBI agent?"

"I was recruited out of College," she said. "I served for seven years as an agent before I burned out. That's when I started working as a Bounty Hunter. Anyway, after Finn retired from the field, he worked as an instructor at the academy for a couple of years and then he retired. For personal reasons, he lives in seclusion."

Seclusion? Personal reasons? The man didn't sound very stable. "What kind of personal reasons?" I asked, feeling uncertain about going away to some isolated location with a man I didn't know.

"It's his story to share, but I'll tell you the basics because I think you need to know." She paused and looked down at the table for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "Before he left the bureau, his wife and daughter were murdered."

My mouth fell open and all I could do was stare at her. When I was finally able to get my mouth to form words, I asked, "Did he ever find out who killed his family?"

"No, the perpetrator or perpetrators were never found. Finn begged to work the case, but his superiors wouldn't allow it. They said he was too close. So, he used his accumulated vacation time to conduct an off the books investigation. When they got wind of it, they gently suggested he resign from the field until he could get his head back in the game. It all left a bad taste in my mouth. I resigned soon after and lost contact with him for a while."

As she talked about him, I felt the high regard she held for him. And from his level of experience, I got the impression he was an older man. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I have these feelings. I call them my Spidey Sense. Over the years, I've learned to rely on it. And right now, it was telling me that I was headed in the right direction, that Mr. Scott was a good man, and that I was going to need to learn everything he had to teach me. The feeling was strong.

"I trust you, Jeanne, but certain people in my life are going to want to know more about Mr. Scott. They'll want to know that I'm going to be safe wherever it is that I'm going."

"Yeah, I get it. Have Hector run a confidential background check on Finn, but I can assure you, it'll turn up clean. He's a good man. I wouldn't send you to someone who would hurt you."

"I know that," I assured her, "but I just can't disappear, not after what happened to me."

"Even though Fin values his privacy, he understands that you need to let some people know where you're going, but he won't be happy if anyone shows up uninvited at his place."

"I'll need to tell my parents, of course, and Hector. Would it be okay if I also told Mary Lou and Lester?"

"I think that's okay, but don't tell anyone else and make sure they're aware of the privacy stipulations."

I assured her I would, and then paused as a new problem came to mind. "Ranger has trackers on my car, most of my shoe's—everywhere really—especially after what happened. So, how will I get out of town without all of Rangeman following?"

She snorted. "You're lucky he hasn't asked you to get chipped."

"He did," I deadpanned.

At first her eyes widened, unable to tell if I was kidding and then she bent forward, holding her stomach, laughing hard. I sat there with my head tilted to the side and one eyebrow raised, frowning impatiently, waiting for her to finish. Realizing I wasn't laughing along with her, she finally sobered. "Sorry," she said, barely able to speak without going into another fit of laughter. She reached out and put her hand on top of mine. "I don't mean to laugh at you. But please tell me he at least took you to a fancy dinner before offering to have you chipped like a dog."

I tried to keep a straight face, but my eyes started watering and my cheeks began to quiver. "No… No fancy dinner," I said, only laughing a little at first and then I stopped trying to fight it and let go because it really was funny. "I guess I should be grateful he didn't drag me to the vet and insist."

We finally noticed several people staring at us and sobered. "So, what were we talking about?" she asked.

"I asked you how I was going to get out of town without Ranger or his Merry Men finding out."

"Merry Men… that's a good one. I bet they love being called that." She shook her head and continued. "I keep a nondescript Toyota Corolla for decoy work. You can borrow it." She snapped her fingers. "Oh, and you'll have to pack clothes that have been recently washed or new. That way you know they have no trackers on them." She was quiet for a minute, trying to figure out a way to say something. Finally, she said, "I hope you don't mind, but I had to tell Finn what happened to you. If he's going to train you, he needs to know."

I'd hoped to go away for training and leave all traces of what happened to me in the cellar behind. Now, it looked like this Finn person was going to know all my business. "I don't like it, but I guess you have a point," I told Jeanne. "He needs to know what he's getting himself into."

"I'm sorry, Stephanie, but triggers can come out of nowhere. If he understands what you're dealing with beforehand, the training will go more smoothly."

"Where exactly am I going?"

"He has a cabin on a lake in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina." She was familiar with the area and began telling me about it. For the next hour, I listened closely as she went over specifics and helped me make a list of items I would need to purchase and pack. The more we planned, the more energized I became.

* * *

I thought about all the things Jeanne said as I drove home from our meeting. My brain conjured a lake scene with a small rustic cabin nearby. She made the mysterious Mr. Finnegan Scott seem seasoned. I pictured him to be as old as my father, and probably a lonely hermit. I was looking forward to all the wisdom he was going to impart. And for some reason I wasn't afraid of going into the unknown. It felt liberating. This was going to be good for me. I could feel it.

I spotted Hector's El Camino as soon as I pulled into my parking lot. He stepped out of his car, smiling when he saw me without my splint. "What did the physical therapist say?"

I waved my arm around, twisting my wrist and hand. "She's pleased with my range of motion and gave me exercises to try at home. I'll see her again on Monday. She'll probably release me back to normal duty then."

"Great, we will celebrate." He reached in his car and pulled a Pino's pizza box off his passenger seat and walked with me into the building.

"I ate at my parents, but I could probably fit another slice in here," I said as I rubbed my stomach.

After we ate and cleared away the pizza box and paper plates, we sat on the couch to begin our nightly lock picking session. I was getting pretty good. I had already mastered two types of locks and was working on a third. Of course, I still needed to increase my speed, but I was taking it one win at a time.

The entire time I was working on the locks, I was thinking about the best way to tell him where I was going. I didn't need his permission, but I also didn't want him to be worried about my safety or think I was abandoning him and all his help. I finally stopped finessing the pin in the lock and waited for him to look at me. "I have something to tell you," we both said at the same time.

We stared at each other, curiosity growing. "You go first," I said.

He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. That wasn't encouraging… at all. I tried to keep my panic under wraps, but the longer it took for him to speak, the more my anxiety grew. What could be so bad that he was afraid to tell me? "The last thing I want to do is upset you." He paused for a beat, taking in my worried expression.

"O-k-a-y." I spoke slowly, thinking about the last time he gave me upsetting news. We were sitting in the same spot we are now when he revealed that Morelli had been cheating on me. Surely, he didn't think I'd be upset about Morelli flirting with some woman in a bar. We're broken up and he knows it. It has to be something else. So many thoughts were running through my head, and none of them were good.

"I have information that might affect you, but I am not sure if you would want to know."

"What kind of information?" I asked hesitantly. Something inside of me was screaming at me to tell him to shut up, but I was battling my curiosity. "Is it about a person?"

"It is about Ranger."

"Is he hurt?" I asked, my voice rising with alarm. When he shook his head no, I calmed a little and then, asked, "Is it something I can help him with?" Again, he shook his head no. My worry was fading and quickly being replaced with something that made my stomach feel squishy.

He looked away as if he didn't want to see my reaction when he spoke again. "It is about where he was when I found you missing."

"Where he was?" He was working out of Rangeman Miami and visiting Julie, wasn't he? Before I let my mind run wild with all kinds of horrible things, I asked myself an important question. Did it really matter where he was or what he was doing? Hector started to say something, and I quickly held up my hand. "Stop. You know that Ranger and I are not together as a couple and we never will be. So, whatever it is you think you need to tell me, don't. He can do whatever he wants with his life. I don't need to know about it, okay?"

As if I'd just released him from a giant burden he'd been carrying around, he nodded and managed a smile. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. "I'll get it." I jumped to my feet. "It's probably Mary Lou. I wanted to tell you both my news at the same time." I checked the video screen, noticing Mare holding a big pink bakery box.

I unlocked the door and threw it open. "Hey," she said, coming in and heading straight for the kitchen. "Tina from the bakery called to let me know Milton's family never picked up his birthday cake. She marked it down half price, so, here I am. We can celebrate Milton's 76th birthday for him." She sat the cake box on the counter next to Rex.

"Great timing," I told Mare. "There's something I want to tell both of you." I motioned for her to follow me into the living room and sit down in the chair across from me while I sat on the couch next to Hector. I smiled, feeling certain about my plan. Feeling my happiness, they grinned back at me, waiting to hear my news. "I'm going to leave town for a while to get physical training to do my job better."

Hector's smile fell and he was instantly alert. "Training? You do not need to go away to get training. I will teach you anything you want to learn."

I had to do some fast talking to get him to understand that our friendship made us too close for him to train me. "I know you will, but I need someone who isn't afraid to push me, and I also want to do this on my own." While he let that settle in, I told them about Finnegan Scott and that he was going to be training me for three months.

"I will run a background check on him."

I smiled indulgently at him. "I told Jeanne you would insist. She's okay with it as long as you do it confidentially. I don't want Ranger or anyone else to know where I'm going. Mr. Scott guards his privacy, but he's allowed me to tell both of you, my parents, and Lester. I'm afraid that if someone shows up uninvited, he'll refuse to train me and send me home. I need to do this. Okay?"

Hector sighed and sat back against the couch.

"I don't want to put you in a position where you have to lie to Ranger about my whereabouts, but I also couldn't leave without letting you know where I was going. I knew you'd worry."

"I appreciate that, but I will worry about you, regardless."

"I think it's great," Mare said. "You need to get away from here and getting properly trained is icing on the cake. Do you know anything about where you'll be staying?"

"I only know what Jeanne told me and that wasn't much. She just said he lives in a cabin on the mountain."

"A cabin?" she wrinkled her nose. "Do you think there'll be running water?"

I paused. I hadn't considered creature comforts. "Jeanne didn't say anything about not having running water."

"Well, you'll need to bring hand sanitizer, that's for sure. And baby wipes. Just in case."

Mare's mom side was coming out and that was okay with me because I knew I would be safe in her hands and well prepared. "I'll add that to the list," I told her, "but I'm trying to keep my baggage to a minimum. If I show up with a lot of stuff, he'll think I'm a diva."

"How are you going to get to this secret location without Ranger or his men following you?" Mare asked.

"I will drive you," Hector said. "That way I know you get there safely."

I sighed. "I appreciate the offer, but I want to do this myself. Jeanne's loaned me her car, and no one will be able to track me." I looked at both of them and rubbed my hands together. "So, I'm doing this. I'm actually going to boot camp."

Until now Hector had been listening but was hoping it was all a vague plan. After witnessing my excitement, he started to come around. "I think this will be good for you, but I will miss you." He pulled me in for a hug.

"I'll be back before you notice I'm gone," I whispered against his shoulder. Now that everything was settled, they started giving me more recommendations on things I would need to take. Finally, I put my list down and stood up. "I think it's time for cake."

Mare and Hector followed me into the kitchen. "Wow, Steph," Mare said and then stopped midsentence.

"What." I turned around to see what was the matter.

"Going to _Kick It_ is really working for you. Your ass looks great in those jeans. Doesn't it, Hector?" She turned around to get his input. Gone were the days when she was scared of him. Now, he was just one of the gang. Weird.

I wasn't fishing for compliments, but when Hector didn't readily agree with her, I started to wonder why. Before I could ask, Mare grabbed my shoulders and spun me back around, my ass on display. I twisted my neck enough to see them behind me and found that Hector was actually giving my ass a good looking over as if I was a seam on a sock and he was quality inspector No. 6. He finally smiled broadly and nodded. "Ah. It is okay for a little white girl."

"What?" I hissed.

Mare gave Hector a dirty look. "He's kidding, girl." She rushed to assure me and then gestured to my butt. "J Lo would be proud of that ass."

"No more talk about my butt or any other body part, got it?" I turned my back on them and continued to the kitchen. I needed cake. Bad. From behind me, I heard murmurings. Something about being sensitive and touchy. Mare opened the cake box and began cutting the cake. I brought out more paper plates, and Hector poured Diet Dr. Pepper into our glasses.

"Um, Steph, what in the world have you been feeding Rex? He's huge."

I moved beside her, peering down at my little buddy. "He's not huge. What are you talking about?"

"Sure, he is. He can barely fit his butt in the soup can. It's hanging out. Look." How had I missed that? She was right. He couldn't get his back end in the can no matter how hard he wiggled. "He's gonna get stuck. Do you have one of those handheld can openers?" I gave her a horrified look, but she just shrugged. "You can always upgrade him to the family size soup can."

"Hush," I swatted her shoulder. "You're hurting his feelings."

While they took their cake into the living room to eat, I pinched off a tiny taste of the creamy goodness and dropped it into Rex's enclosure before following them. While we ate, we streamed the latest episode of Modern Family. "You know," Mare said, "since I'm going to keep Rex at my house while you're gone, there's no reason he can't undergo his own version of boot camp. I can be his drill sergeant. I think a Barbie headband and leg warmers will fit him. Oooh, and Barbie's workout center comes with tiny barbells and a little trampoline. When you come back, he'll be in peak condition. He'll be able to get any job he wants. He could be a teacher or even be an astronaut if he wanted."

Hector made a sound that could have been a snort. I looked at him and then back at Mare. "Are you body shaming Rex?"

Seconds later we heard Rex's squeaking wheel going round and round.

* * *

Over the weekend, Mare and I went shopping for the things I would need to bring with me to boot camp. With her help, I was able to check off most of the items on my list. We went back to her house afterwards because she was going to loan me her luggage. Instead of dragging everything home with me and risking Ranger putting a tracker in my new things, I left everything at her house. This was another thing that was going to change when I got back. He had to stop tracking me.

By Wednesday of the next week, most of the gossip about my breakup had begun to die down. That morning, I went for my physical and was given a medical release with no limitations on any exercises that I wanted to perform. In other words, I was back to normal and Mr. Scott had their blessing to push me as far as he possibly could. Great. While I was there, I also renewed my birth control shot since it was due.

My plans were coming along nicely, that is until I returned Kent Wheeler to the system. As I walked out of the station with my body receipt in hand, my steps faltered when I saw Joe Morelli leaning against the driver's side of my Jeep. He looked good—damn good. His body was loose, as if he didn't have a care in the world. There had been radio silence from him since that day in his kitchen, but I'd expected as much. This was his M.O. He'd bide his time, letting me cool off and when he thought I'd forgotten what had made me mad, he'd reappear as if nothing happened and tell me Bob missed me. He had his routine down pat. It was designed to get me back in his bed and once I was there, he'd be able to convince me to stay… for a while. It had worked before so there was no reason for him to think his tactics wouldn't work again. But he would be wrong.

I kept my head down, eyes on the pavement as I walked to my Jeep. "Looking good, Cupcake." He flashed me the same smile that never failed to heat my blood and melt my panties off. It was the Tasty Pastry all over again. His charms were legendary. They hadn't failed him yet. And for all my strength—I wasn't immune.

"I thought we had an agreement," I said, casually looking around to see if we were drawing attention. The door to the station was standing wide open and several cops loitered, conveniently taking their break. I glanced up, noticing fingers poking through the window blinds of some of offices in order to get a view of what was transpiring below. Great. This would be all over the Burg by lunchtime, igniting the rumors that had only just begun to die down.

He didn't try to pretend he didn't know what I was talking about. He pushed himself off my Jeep, his face as serious as I've ever seen it. "I'm sorry," he pleaded. "Will you please forgive me?"

The angry muscles in my face went slack. He'd never apologized before. I wanted to say I was a good person, capable of forgiving, but I'm not. In this case, he was asking too much. "No," I said, raising my eyebrows to let him know my patience was running thin and he needed to get out of my way. He took a step toward me and I took a step back. There was something that had been bothering me since the last time I saw him, and I wanted to clear the air. I was going away for three months; who knew when I would see him again? "For the record," I told him, "I wasn't setting you up. I meant it when I accepted your marriage proposal. I was giving you a chance to choose us, but you didn't."

He reached for me and I took another step back. He let his hands fall to his side. "Terry... she means nothing to me. I haven't seen her. You have to believe me. I love you, Stephanie. I'm all in. Just give me another chance."

"Why would I give you another chance? You looked right into my eyes and lied to me. Maybe someday I'll be able to forgive you, but I won't ever forget how you betrayed my trust."

He hung his head and when he looked up at me again there was something in his eyes akin to shame. "That night in the bakery… it wasn't planned. I want you to know that." He waited for me to say something, but what was there to say? "I remember every detail of that night," he continued. "It's one of the few happy memories of my childhood. If I had it to do over, I would have taken you somewhere nice, and made that moment special for you, instead of taking you behind the bakery counter." He started shaking his head. Regret and unshed tears shone in his eyes. "And I definitely wouldn't have written those poems on the walls."

My heart ached. I still loved him. Maybe I always would. I looked down at the ground, swallowing past the lump in my throat as I fought my own tears. Finally, after all this time, he was saying everything I ever wanted to hear. But it was too late. He looked at me expectantly. This was the part where I usually took a hesitant first step toward him and grudgingly let him back into my life. I don't know where I found the strength, but I lifted my head, holding it high as I stepped around him and opened my car door.

He didn't try to stop me as I began backing out of the space. "I'm in love with you, Stephanie Plum! And I'm going to be here waiting for you when you're ready," he yelled loud enough for me to hear him through the closed car window. Unfortunately, the spectators loitering around the building could hear him as well.

I lowered the window a couple inches. "Don't wait for me, Joe," I whispered loud enough for only him to hear me and then I drove away, crying for the life we'd never get to share.

* * *

Early Friday morning I was startled awake by someone knocking on my apartment door. Through my bedroom curtains, I could see that it was still dark outside. I turned over to check the time and groaned when I saw the glowing red numbers telling me it was 5:07 am. Getting a visit in what I considered the middle of the night was never a good thing. Alarmed and a little angry, I grabbed my gun from the bedside table, threw off the comforter, and went to see who was disturbing my sleep and why.

Since I was still sleeping with the bathroom light on, I was able to see clearly enough to make my way through the apartment, flipping more lights on as I went. Before I opened the door, I checked the video screen to see who was on the other side. Ranger. I rubbed my eyes, convinced I was dreaming, but when I looked again, he was still standing outside my door. I hadn't expected to see him for a while, not after the things I'd said to him three days ago.

"Give me a minute," I yelled through the door as I set the gun on the small table and nearly screamed when I caught my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. My short hair was sticking up in all directions. I quickly ran my fingers through it, doing my best to get it to lay down. It was a little better but not by much. Finally, I sighed and gave up. Realizing he was still waiting on me to open the door, I began fumbling to release the center bar, then the floor bolt, and lastly the alarm.

"Good morning, Babe," he said as soon as I opened the door.

I took him in from head to toe. It wasn't often I got to see him in something other than his Rangeman uniform, but this morning he had on black jeans, a cream sweater, and a black leather jacket. As usual, he smelled wonderful. His scent triggered thoughts of his bare skin touching mine and his mouth doing lots and lots of nasty things to me. I realized what I was doing and shook my head to stop that train of thought. Feeling uncomfortable because I'd just rolled out of bed while he'd obviously had time to shower and get presentable, I self-consciously smoothed my hair again even though it was futile.

"I thought this would make up for the early morning visit." He gestured to the coffee and pastry bag in his hands, but when he saw my gun sitting on the table, he gave a small nod of approval.

"What are you doing here?" While I tried to make sense out of why he was here so early in the morning, he took note of me and what I was wearing or more accurately not wearing. When his eyes dropped to my chest, his jaw clenched, and he swallowed hard. Feeling on display in my white tank top and wonder woman boxers, I quickly grabbed Lester's forgotten hoodie off the pegs by the door and slipped it on. As I pulled my hands through the ends of the sleeves and crossed the sides over my braless breasts, I turned and headed to the kitchen.

He followed me and set the coffee cup and pastry bag down on my kitchen counter. His face had a haunted look as he said, "I came to say goodbye."

My heart lurched. "You're leaving because of what I said the other day?"

Instead of answering me, he asked, "Did you mean everything you said?"

I took a moment to let the conversation run through my mind again. Everything I said was truly how I felt, and those feelings had been brewing for a while. "Yes, but I don't want you to leave with any hard feelings."

"I never meant to hurt you, Babe, but I see that I have." He smiled softly. "I respect you and from now on, I will respect the boundaries you've set."

"But you don't have to leave to do that, do you?" I was nearly desperate. Had what I said been enough to make him cut all ties with me? When he didn't answer me, I began to panic. "Are you coming back?"

"Could be a while, but I'll be back," he said as he reached toward my face as if he was going to run the back of his fingers over my jaw, but right before he touched my skin, he let his hand drop back down to his side. "In the meantime, Tank will be available if you need anything."

"Are you leaving for business or… ?"

"Bad business, Babe."

He had this grim look on his face that scared me down to my toes. I didn't want him to leave with the way things were between us. What if he got hurt or worse? "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I'm always careful," he countered. "You're the one I'm worried about. I don't like leaving you. You're not in a good place."

I looked away. "I'm doing the best I can."

"It's going to catch up to you." He pulled a business card out of his pants pocket and handed it to me. "This is the name of a therapist I think you'll like. She can help you if you'll let her. You don't have to be tough all the time."

I didn't want to make him worry needlessly about me while he was gone, so I took the card even though I had no intention of calling the therapist. We stood quietly, taking each other in as if this might be the last time we set eyes on each other. "As long as you come back, I'll be fine," I said, not wanting him to leave. It seemed like he was running away from me and that scared me. The air was filled with unspoken desires. I had to say something to break the spell. "Besides, you're too pretty to get messed up."

"Babe, I'm not pretty." He almost rolled his eyes. _Am I a good example or what?_

"With those thick lashes and that chiseled jaw, you could hang up your cargo pants and 9mm and try your hand at modeling." I tried not to smile. "You wouldn't be just any model… you'd be a _super _model. Bigger than David Gandy. Probably even bigger than Fabio."

He looked at me as if he wasn't sure why he put up with me.

"You should be happy you didn't end up with a double chin and a wart on the end of your nose."

He grinned and thought about laughing.

"I'm going to be working out while you're gone and getting better at my job."

"Don't get so good that you don't need me anymore."

I tilted my head to the side. "You think that's possible?"

"You make me believe in the impossible."

"Still friends, Batman?"

"You're my best friend, Babe." He pulled me into his arms like he'd wanted to do from the moment he walked into my apartment and I went willingly, instantly engulfed in his warmth. As I leaned my head against his chest, he tightened his arms around me. I was reassured by the sound of his beating heart and more aware than ever that he was flesh and blood and not indestructible. "I don't want to lose you from my life," he whispered a little desperately into my ear. I looked up at him and he kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin. I felt my eyes growing wet and closed them hoping to quell the tide before I became a blubbering mess. By the time I openened my eyes again, he was gone.

* * *

My mother was standing alone at the front door when I pulled into the driveway. I clutched the steering wheel and breathed a long sigh. I'd been dodging her calls since my hasty retreat last week and from the look of determination on her face, I could tell she wasn't going to let me leave tonight without getting answers. I'd thought a lot about what I was going to say to her. The old Stephanie would have continued to avoid her hoping it would all go away, but I wanted her to understand and support my decision, which meant I'd have to tell her what Morelli did.

She held the door open for me as I went inside. Instead of bombarding me with questions she kept giving me pointed looks designed to instill guilt and confession. I'd been through this many times, so I knew the drill. "Where is everyone?" I asked when I noted only three place settings on the table.

"Your grandmother is at a viewing and your sister's family went to Albert's mothers this evening."

I wasn't fooled for a second. My mother lives for Friday night dinner. There's nothing she likes more than cooking for her offspring. She sent everyone away on purpose so there would be no interruptions during her interrogation about my breakup. "Do you need any help?" I asked.

"No. Everything's ready, just call your father to the table please."

After we were all seated, I dug into her famous pot roast with gusto. "Pass the gravy, Pumpkin," dad asked, seeming not to have a care in the world. He certainly wasn't curious about my breakup.

As I handed the ceramic dish to him, my mother said, "Not so much, Frank. You need to watch your cholesterol."

"I'll watch my cholesterol when I'm dead," he said. I'd heard this same conversation at every dinner. It was mundane.

"So, Stephanie," my mother started. With my fork getting ready to enter my mouth, I sighed. Here it comes. She wasn't even going to let me finish dinner first. "How is work going?"

I brought the fork back down to my plate without eating it and closed my mouth. This was unexpected. She never wanted to talk about my job. She preferred not to know about any of the dangerous things it entailed. I mentally prepared myself, knowing this was the lull before the storm. "I. Uh. It's going pretty well, I guess. I've brought in a few skips, nothing exciting." I finally stuck my fork in my mouth and chewed.

"Well, that's good honey. Isn't it, Frank?"

He looked up at the mention of his name. "Oh, uh, yeah. That's good, Pumpkin. I'm proud of you."

I froze. I could count on one hand the number of times my father has told me he was proud of me. He just wasn't a demonstrative man. He showed his affections by providing monetarily for us and my mom showed her affection by cooking and keeping us healthy. "Thanks, Dad. That means a lot." After that awkward exchange, we continued eating. I waited until I finished my pineapple upside down cake before I blurted my news. "I'm going to be leaving town for a few weeks." My dad slowed his bites, indicating that he was listening, but also content to let my mother ask the hard questions.

Mom put her fork down, concern clouding her eyes. "What? You can't leave town. Where will you go?"

"I'm going to get intensive physical training. It's sort of like a boot camp."

"Boot camp?" she asked, barely able to close her mouth from the shock. "Why do you need to go away for training? I'm sure Joseph can help you right here at home."

"Everyone in the Burg knows that Joe and I broke up."

"It's just temporary," she assured me, as if I didn't know the status of my own relationship. "Being in a relationship isn't easy, Stephanie. It takes work. Throwing away a good relationship at your age isn't smart. You aren't getting any younger," she sighed.

My dad pushed his plate away. "That's enough, Helen."

"She's wasting her life, Frank."

He ignored my mom and focused on me. "Tell us about this boot camp."

"I'll be gone for twelve weeks," I said and gave him the details of my training. He seemed impressed—happy that I was taking my safety seriously. "The place where I'm going requires secrecy," I added. "I'm allowed to tell you, but you can't tell anyone where I'm going."

He nodded. "Do you need any money?"

"No," I said and told them about the reward. Both of their mouths hung open—speechless.

Finally, Dad said, "I know it's been hard on you since—" He let his words trail off and then resolved to finish his thought. "I'm just glad you're taking your safety seriously." He gave me a kiss on the forehead and went to his recliner.

I helped mom clear the table and clean the kitchen. "I can't say I'm surprised about you and Joseph, but this time you seem adamant about not working things out." She handed me a plate to dry. "Will you tell me what happened?"

"He did the one thing I can't forgive," I said, my voice sounding defeated.

The plate slipped out of her hand, splashing into the water. "Are you telling me he cheated on you?" To avoid her gaze, I concentrated on drying the plate in my hand. "Are you sure," she asked.

"I saw him, Mom." I sniffed. "He asked me to marry him before Christmas. He even gave me an engagement ring. I asked him for some time to think about it. And then while I was—" I paused to clear my throat. "While I was kidnapped, he was with her, and when I got out of the hospital, I told him my answer was yes, and he slept with her again."

She made a growling sound low in her throat that I'd never heard her do before. "Tell me it wasn't with that awful Joyce Barnhardt."

I shook my head. "It was Terry Gilman."

"The MOB girl?" She narrowed her brows. "Didn't your Grandmother say he jumped out of her window half naked?"

"Yup." I sighed.

"Why that no good—" Her fingers clenched the fork she was washing before she released it. "What he did is unforgivable. Once a cheater always a cheater. Isn't that what they say?" I nodded my head, my throat too constricted to speak at the moment. I hadn't expected her to be so strongly on my side. "Don't let your Grandmother get wind of this," she warned, "or it'll be all over the Burg. That woman can't keep a secret to save her life." She went back to washing dishes and I could see that she was still thinking about something. When she handed me the last dish to dry, she said, "This boot camp, is it going to make you happy?"

"I don't know," I said, honestly.

"Do you remember how passionate you were about dancing?" she asked, smiling nostalgically. "You were only in tenth grade at the time, but you begged and begged to be allowed to go to the Dance Intensive Workshop at Julliard. Your father and I thought you were too young to be away from us for an entire week, but you said studying at Julliard was your dream. There was no way we could stand in your way." She put her hands on my shoulders, squeezing just a little. "Every night you called to tell us how much fun you were having. Do you remember?"

I nodded, remembering every moment of that week. From the second I walked through the doors of that remarkable building; I knew it was where I belonged. I even made a new friend, Aiden Brooks. He was four years older than me and was already established as a dancing prodigy. He was volunteering his time over the spring break to work with those of us who were lucky enough to get chosen for the Intensive Workshop. I'll never forget the words he said to me. He said, _"Stephanie, you have raw talent. Work hard and you're a shoe in for that scholarship. And when you accept, I'll be here waiting to dance with you."_ He was young, but he saw talent in me. I felt… I don't know how to explain how I felt. Worthy? Talented? For the first time in my life, I was good at something and I knew it. I was going to work hard and do everything I could to be awarded one of only four scholarships they offered each year. It was the last happiness I would experience for a long time.

I turned my attention back to my mother who was still talking. "When you came home, you couldn't stop talking about the people you met and everything you learned. You said they practically assured that you'd be awarded a scholarship." She tilted her head to the side, deeply puzzled. "But when the letter came weeks later, you ripped it up. Why? It was plain as the nose on your face that your heart was set on going to that school and then suddenly you lost interest." She frowned. "Come to think of it, that's when you stopped eating, too. You wouldn't even leave the house. What happened that summer, Stephanie?"

I'd ripped up the letter offering me a scholarship right after Mason Treadwell shattered my life. After he hurt me, I could barely leave my room let alone the house. Luckily, my parents had already grounded me because of the tasty pastry incident with Morelli, so I had a reason to stay in. After a while, they noticed I'd stopped eating and then they got worried. If school hadn't started up again, forcing me to leave the house and carry on, I think they were getting ready to take me to the doctor.

I wanted to put my arms around her and tell her everything, but it was too late for that. Years and years too late. If I'd been stronger… if I'd told her what happened… but I didn't. I threw away my future as a dancer because I was a coward. To fill the loss, I got a degree in business marketing and married the first loser who turned my head. It's no wonder I've felt like a loser all my life. These realizations were coming too late, though. I couldn't go to Julliard now. Dancing would always remain an unattainable dream.

"Nothing happened Mom," I assured her as I leaned over, giving her a hug. "Dancing just wasn't meant to be."

She hugged me back a little tighter than usual as if she knew I needed an extra dose tonight. "I love you, Stephanie. You know that, right?"

I sniffed and tightened my hold. "I love you too, Mom."

She leaned back, drying the tears that I hadn't realized were falling. "I hope Joseph Morelli steps in dog poopy every day for the rest of his life." We laughed and I said my goodbyes.

The rest of the weekend was spent wrapping up loose ends. I had everything packed and loaded in Jeanne's Toyota Corolla when Hector, Mare, and Lester showed up at my apartment late Saturday afternoon with pizza. While we ate, we watched a movie and enjoyed each other's company. After Lester agreed to keep my secret, I told him that I was leaving for a while, but I didn't tell him where I was going. He was as sad as Mare and Hector had been when I told them, but he understood why I needed to go. I was going to miss my friends while I was gone.

Since I wanted to make it up the mountain in North Carolina before dark, I went to bed early Saturday night, hoping to get enough sleep to carry me through the ten hour drive the next day. At 3:00 am Sunday morning, I plugged the coordinates into the aftermarket GPS and took off heading south on 95, never once looking back.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN THE PRICE OF SILENCE BOOK 2**


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